


Black No. 1

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Fingering, Angst and Humor, Blow Jobs, Child Abuse, Coming of Age, Crisis of Faith, Crossdressing, Cunnilingus, DeanxBenny, Depression, F/M, First Time, Hand Jobs, Identity Issues, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, SamxRuby - Freeform, Teenagers, Tongue Piercings, Truth or Dare, Underage Smoking, Vaginal Fingering, a pink dildo, i have a soft spot for drag queen Luci, sappy dates, they're gonna get freaky in the back of a hearse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 90,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2530367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak was an adopted kid, one of nine adopted in a family with thirteen children. He was too young when he was adopted to remember anything of his previous life. He was a good son in the Novak family. He did well in school, he enjoyed attending church, and he was dutiful to his father. He was sixteen when his father died, and everything started to change. It wasn’t the absence of his father which caused any of that, no, the man had not been around much in their lives for some years due to his business work. Rather, the daughter of the funeral director, Meg Masters, came in to his life when she met him at the wake. Meg was the catalyst, setting off a chain reaction that would alter him indelibly. Struggling with questions of his identity, his faith, his sexuality, Castiel endeavored to obey his eldest brother Michael like he had his father. But Meg, with her black painted nails and her black lined eyes, has brought color into his world that he didn’t even know he was lacking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A hiding place

Castiel had arrived early in the morning with his brothers and sisters before the rest of their aunts, uncles, distant cousins - and anyone with blood or arrogance enough to think they might get a piece of the estate - could trickle in. The funeral home was a large Victorian house that was painted pristine white, wide wrap around porch inviting them in, sitting on a sprawling green lawn surrounded by tall old trees. It was on a road where the houses could barely been seen from one another, but there was a church down the ways with the cemetery behind it, so Castiel supposed it was a good location for a funeral home.

His older brothers Mike and Luc had set to squabbling with the funeral director as soon as they had come in. Castiel didn't want to stereotype, but the director - an Azazel Masters - gave him the creeps. His eyes were such a light brown they looked almost yellow and he felt off, too sincere in his condolences. Castiel did not stay around long to listen to why the flowers were wrong, or why the seating arrangement was wrong according to his brothers. He filed into the large room where the wake was to be held with the rest of his siblings, a few of them wandering to the front where their father lay in his casket, others wandering around the room aimlessly or sitting and fiddling with cell phones. The large windows let in generous sunlight, the room bright yet somber with heavy dark furnishings. Everything was gold and red and so gaudy that Castiel wondered if the decorations were supposed to serve as a distraction for the bereaved.

It wasn’t distracting, it was irritating, and he wasn’t particularly bereaved.

Castiel made his way to the front where his father lay looking like he was sleeping in a very fancy casket that must have been very expensive. It was a shame really. Castiel didn’t know why people wasted so much money on coffins. It didn't do the dead any good. His father's casket was a rich glossed wood, the interior lined with white satin, the palls had fancy scrollwork. He sighed as he regarded his father, hair only recently grayed at the temples, severe face looking deeply displeased even in death. Castiel knew that he should be sad. Perhaps angry. But all he felt was numb.

His father had never seemed overly fond of him. As Castiel had grown older, he and his younger siblings were left increasingly in the care of nannies or their eldest brothers. The last time he had seen his father was at a school debate during the end of his sophomore year, almost four months ago. The death had come unexpectedly. It was from a heart attack while he was away on a business trip. There was no prolonged illness, no hospital stay, no warning, he just dropped one day. Nobody in the family seemed too distraught, although Mike and Luc put up good appearances, probably competing with each other in their own ways over who grieved the most, who loved their father the most, who was the best son.

Eventually Castiel was shuffled off to the side by Naomi taking her spot in front of the open casket and scowling down at their father. He made his way to a quiet corner near a window and watched the birds outside. There were nice gardens at the front of the property with bright flowers in coordinated patterns. It was a sunny day out. Castiel mentally reviewed his list of homework for the weekend, lamenting that he had to take two days off school for the wake and then the funeral.

As relatives began to arrive, he was pulled up to the front next to the casket and lined up with his siblings in order of oldest to youngest. They all stood straight and did their best to appear dutifully bereft as they shook hands with the stream of people starting to come in steadily for the wake, offering their condolences and sharing their ‘fond’ memories with the children before saying their goodbye and taking a seat. Michael stood at the head of the line, right next to the casket, with Lucifer pressed close beside him. Gabriel, the most bored looking, came next, then Raphael stiff as a rod. People lingered the longest to talk to them, his father’s actual children - the biological children, the ones that mattered. Then they hurried to shake the hands of Naomi, Anna, Rachel, Hester, Balthazar, Castiel, Uriel, Hanna and Hael while mumbling their regrets and scurrying away.

Castiel got Uriel to switch places with him, then persuaded Hanna, then pushed Hael up so that he was at the tail end of the line before he could mutter something about going to the bathroom and ducking away from the stifling atmosphere of mock sincerity and all the whispered gossip. He snuck around like what he was doing was bad, but truthfully, he needed a reprieve.

The funeral home was massive, several large rooms for holding services were empty, a front parlor with information and books regarding services, rooms with locked doors. The front entrance was wide with a marble tiled floor and dark polished wood trim, a staircase curving upstairs covered in red oriental carpet was cordoned off with a sash as a private area. Castiel wandered and found himself a small alcove that was set underneath the stairs with a plain bench to sit on and a wall sconce on the side lighting it up.

He tucked himself away as quiet and unnoticeable as he could, sitting still and resting, feeling much better away from all the chaos. Of course someone had to find him and disturb his peace. She looked young, around his age, wearing plain black shoes with a modest heel and knee high black socks that had small purple ribbons on the top, knees bared, black dress with short puffed sleeves and pearl buttons down to the waist, skirt a few inches above her knees and fringed with lace. Wavy brown hair fell loose over her shoulders, framing a sweet face and soft eyes. She blinked at him a few times, holding eye contact before sitting on the bench next to him.

Castiel didn't think the small alcove was meant to seat two people. She was too close, pressed against his side, smelling of sweet flowers. He wondered how distant of a cousin she was.

"Hey."

"Hello."

She held a delicate hand out, fingernails painted black, silver rings on most of her fingers.

"I’m Meg, the director’s daughter."

Oh. Oh, not a relative then.

"Castiel."

"What’s your relation to the deceased?"

Castiel blinked slowly, once, processing the formal question. It sounded practiced.

"Son."

"Shit. Sorry. I’m guessing you just want a moment to mourn in peace."

Meg stood, and suddenly the alcove felt too big without her there.

"No, it’s alright. You don’t have to go."

She looked up and down the hall.

"Pretty big shindig huh; you have a large family."

"Yes."

"Just so you know, I don’t care if you cry. It doesn’t make you a wuss or anything, just means you’re human."

Castiel shrugged and wished she’d sit back down.

"I’m not even upset."

"Huh?"

"I mean, I feel guilty I guess. I feel guilty because I’m not even sad about it."

Meg’s brow creased and she looked down at him with a question poised on her lips, but Castiel continued talking, “It’s just that he wasn’t around much at all. Even when he was, he was distant. I don’t really feel like I knew the man. Not really.”

"That’s some heavy shit."

Castiel squinted at her. He wasn’t sure if she was amused by this or had nothing better to do. He supposed if she was the daughter of the funeral director she was used to this sort of thing. When she tucked her hair behind an ear he saw a row of safety pins curving down the lobe. Her brown eyes were lined in thick black. He wondered if she always dressed like this, or if she wore black when services were held. She held out a hand.

"I know a much better hiding spot than this. If you wanna come with me."

Castiel didn’t even think about it when he slid his hand into hers and stood, being tugged down the hallway by her. She paused at the bottom of the large staircase that was cordoned off, glancing around before ducking under it and dragging him along. Bounding up the stairs and turning to run down a small hall to where the stairs curved up again she bounced up another flight and turned down another hall. The walls were lined with photographs in color and sepia, the rugs on the floor oriental patterned throughout. She dragged him through the house down corridors and turns and up more stairs until they were in what looked like at attic. Castiel probably couldn't find his way back if he tried. But he didn't want to. The ceiling sloped down sharply and there were small round windows near the floor, rows of boxes and things stacked through the room, and Meg led him winding through a path to a small wood door that was only waist high.

She knelt on the floor and disappeared through it. Castiel followed, closing the half door behind him, finding himself crawling on hands and knees - in his good suit - along a narrow plank over rafters in an unfinished area. Meg crawled ahead of him, her dress ridden up to expose the backs of her smooth pale thighs and Castiel tried not to look but really, he needed to know where to go.

She stopped at the end of the plank to push a round window open and squeeze through. It was barely large enough for Castiel to fit his shoulders through. He found himself kneeling on a small section of flat roof that had a wrought iron railing in front of it stretched between the rounded slopes of other sections of roof-top. He was amazed at how detailed, how complicated, the architecture of the house was. Twisting to close the window behind him for more room, the two of them fit in the small space side by side and he could stretch his legs out almost fully to the railing.

There was a gorgeous view across the fields surrounding the house to the tree tops of the forest that sloped up into hills, the clouds in the sky puffy and moving lazily. Meg sat cross legged, unbuttoning the first few buttons of her dress and suddenly Castiel was very anxious. She reached down into her dress and pulled out a small black box and a lighter, shaking what looked like a cigarette out of the box but it was black too.

"You ever smoke?"

"No."

"Do you want to?”

"I’m not sure. Are those cigarettes?"

Meg put one in her mouth and lit it, pushing the box and lighter back down into her bra. The smoke smelled fragrant.

"Yeah, they’re cloves, it’s like cigarettes with a little kick, a little flavor."

"How do you get them?"

"My brother, Tom, he’s five years older, he buys them for me."

"Does he still live here?"

"Uh-huh, goes to college in town, he’s studying to become a mortician."

"He’s going in to the same line of work as your father?"

"'Course. he’ll be working right here, and I’ll go to school for it too, and we’ll run the place together. It’s a family business."

"Is that what you want to do?"

"I think so." She shrugged, offered him a wry smile. "Hey, it has job security. People are always gonna be dying."

Castiel squinted at her, breathing in the spicy scented smoke, Meg watching him through the gray haze.

"I suppose so."

She held the cigarette in her fingers and puffed a little smoke away from him, leaning back against the side of the house.

"Are you from around here?"

"Yes, we live downtown."

"What school do you go to?"

" St. Sebastian’s."

"Ah, private school."

She smiled again, like there was something she knew and he didn’t, and it irritated him. Maybe Meg noticed because she held up a hand placatingly before putting the cigarette back in her mouth.

”Hey, no judgments here.”

Castiel sighed and fidgeted with the cuffs of his button down shirt, too warm outside under the sun even with the gentle breeze. He pulled off his suit jacket and folded it neatly, setting it on the slope of the roof next to him. Reaching over to Meg and gesturing for the cigarette, he said, “Here, let me try.”

Meg held the cigarette in the vee of her fingers while she passed it over, plush lips curled with amusement, and Castiel took it carefully, holding it like she did. Bringing it up to his lips he took the smallest inhale, swallowing, before questioning if he was supposed to swallow or not. It was too late to ask, the smoke scratching his throat. Doubling over with a violent cough, Meg took the cigarette from him again and thumped him on the back.

"Easy there."

He felt tingly. Was he supposed to feel tingly, he’d only had a small amount. Maybe it was an allergic reaction. Before he could freak out too much about that, Meg was asking, “So do you have a lot of brothers and sisters, or just a hell of a lot of cousins?”

"Both. Most of the people down there I don’t even know. But I have twelve siblings."

Meg turned to him wide eyed. “Holy shit, that’s a lot of kids to pop out.”

"Oh, we’re not all biological. The eldest four are my parent’s children, the rest of us are adopted."

"Goddam."

Castiel only nodded in agreement. Sometimes - a rare few times - he had managed to feel sorry for his father. It was most likely the case that his mother was the one who wanted more children. His older brothers skirted the topic but he always got the impression that something happened and she couldn’t bear children after Raphael. His father wasn’t a very affectionate man, but from what Castiel can remember his father loved his mother very much and gave her whatever she wanted. After she died when he was barely ten years old, it wasn’t like his father could do anything with all of them but keep feeding them. Castiel was seventeen years younger than Michael, with Uriel, Hannah, and Hael even younger than him. In their father’s absences Michael had kept the family together.

Michael would probably take over the family now, Castiel doubted it could be too difficult with the inheritance. Most likely, Michael would take over their father’s position at his company too.

Castiel was shaken out of his thoughts when Meg smooshed the cigarette out in a small clay bowl that held a collection of butts, nestled between the railing spokes.

"Well that’s enough for depressing things. What do you do for fun, Cas?"

"Fun?"

"Yeah, fun, f-u-n, it’s what kids are supposed to do?"

"Um. I’m on the school debate team. And the chess club."

Meg rolled her eyes at him.

"What do you do on the weekends, when you’re not at school?"

"Study."

Meg snorted, shaking her head. She scooted closer to him until their hips were touching, twisting around to face him, one of her hands reaching up to the back of his neck, fingers pushing through his hair as she leaned close. Castiel was frozen still, watching her wide-eyed, breath catching in his throat. She was close enough to feel her breath on his cheek when she asked, “You ever kiss a girl?”

He shook his head minutely. “No.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, gaze flicking down and back up. “You ever kiss a boy?”

It seemed like the world had shrunk to this tiny, tiny space between them and he could barely whisper. “No.”

She leaned even closer, eyes fluttering half shut, fingers circling over his neck. “Do you want to kiss me?”

He could feel his cheeks flush hot, his heartbeat quicken, his cock already - embarrassingly - hard in his pants at the mere suggestion of her proximity. “Please.”

Meg closed the distance and pressed her lips to his lightly, then a little harder. He was too busy watching her, watching her black lined eyes shut and how the contours of her face changed with the new perspective. Before he knew it, she was pulling back, still close enough to feel her lips ghost across his when she spoke.

"You’re supposed to move your lips."

"Oh."

"Here, it’s easy, just follow my lead. Open your mouth up, not too wide, let me in, and when I push you push back."

He was still processing her words - committing them to memory - when she was pressing her lips to his again. He closed his eyes like she had, parted his lips slightly, felt the press of her tongue against the seam of his mouth and he let his jaw go slack, opening for her before pushing back when she licked into his mouth. He wasn’t too sure what to do after that. Whether he should keep pushing and try to get his tongue in her mouth, or let her take whatever she wanted from him. It was strange but nice how her tongue was slick and warm inside him and the taste of her spicy cigarettes lingered.

He moaned in shock when she bit at his bottom lip, eyes opening up to find her looking at him.

"You’re thinking too much."

"What?"

"Stop thinking."

"I can’t just - "

"No, don’t think about it, just feel it."

Before he could continue arguing she was back at his mouth, more fervent and rough, her hand at the back of his head pressing him forward. Her slender fingers were pulling at the knot in his tie, loosening in and unbuttoning his shirt while she kissed him. He thought it was a shame he had never kissed a girl before because it was exhilarating and amazing, but he knew why he had never kissed a girl before - because it was terrifying and overwhelming.

"Breathe."

He hadn’t even noticed he was holding his breath.

"Breathe through your nose."

Nodding, dumbfounded, he pressed into her space this time, a hand settling on her hip while she tugged the hem of his shirt out of his pants and slipped a hand underneath, palm warm as she stroked up his back. He breathed through his nose and closed his eyes and tried to follow her lead, mirror her actions, but for the life of him he couldn’t puzzle out what she was doing with her tongue in his mouth.

When Meg separated from him again, her lips were shining and her cheeks were pink, she looked gorgeous as the wind caught her hair and whipped it around her face.

"You’re so beautiful."

She laughed, and he hoped it was amusement. Biting her lower lip, hands still teasing through his hair, she reached up and unbuttoned the top half of her dress. Castiel tried to watch her eyes - you were always supposed to look at their eyes - but he couldn’t stop from stealing a glance down at the creamy swell of her modest cleavage. She wore a polka-dot bra, and he very much hoped to find out if her panties matched. He was making out with a strange girl he’d known less than an hour and having severely immodest thoughts about her. Castiel was positively baffled why she had any interest in him.

Then Meg was lifting one of his hands and placing it on her breast and Castiel’s mouth was gaping open.

"You can touch me too. Here, like this."

She was pushing his hand down her bra, fingers between the material and her skin, and she was softer and warmer than he could have imagined. The bud of her nipple was hardened under the pads of his fingers and she gasped at the contact, pressing against him. She curled her own hand over top his, squeezing and guiding his motions.

"Pinch it lightly, and just, roll it a little - ah - like that."

"May I - may I kiss you there?"

She leaned back, inviting him in.

"Sure."

Castiel bent forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the skin of her chest above the line of her bra. He felt bold, reckless, but not intrepid enough to pull back the cotton fabric and expose her any further. He kissed the curve of her shoulder and brushed her hair aside with his nose while he kissed her neck.

"Good boy."

Her fingers pushed through his short hair and pulled him up to kiss her lips again. He kept one hand in her bra while he kissed her back more steadily this time, one of her hands under his shirt, nails scratching down his back. It hurt vaguely in a dull sense but more than that it made his cock twitch in his pants.

"Think you could manage to kiss me and finger me at the same time big boy?"

Castiel tried not to keep gawping at her as she suggested more and more risque activity. Really, he was fine with kissing. Kissing was nice. Castiel licked his lips and looked at her, flushed and pretty and looking so eager, and he couldn’t say no. Not that he wanted to.

"Finger - you, you want me to finger you?"

He almost winced at himself stammering like a virgin. But he was a virgin. So that could be forgiven, right?

"Yeah, c’mere I’ll show you how, just like with kissing."

She slung a leg over his thigh, pulling his legs a little apart and draping herself over him, skirt hitched up her slender thighs. She pulled his hand out of her bra, his other hand gripping onto her hip still for dear life. Setting his free hand on her thigh, she moved his wrist, and Castiel started petting her lightly. Slow increments. She kissed him again while his hand roamed the smooth expanses of her skin, the bump of her knee and the silken fabric of ribbon on the tops of her socks.

She was twisted around to press against his side while she had a leg over his lap, her hands opening the buckle of his belt and unzipping his pants. She pecked at his lips, nibbled lightly, kissed his jaw. Castiel circled his palm over her thigh and shifted his hips sideways a little so she could reach him better.

"I’m going to put my hand in your pants, all right?"

"All right."

He sounded dazed and distant even to himself. A soft hand wrapped around his cock and pulled it out of his boxers, the elastic pushing down against his sac as she circled her hand lightly around him. He may have whimpered.

"Why don’t you push your hand up my skirt a little more?"

Castiel nodded, fingers brushing up the sleek inside of her parted thigh and he stopped at the apex of her leg.

One hand still on his erection, the other covered his own again, pulling up to push into her panties from the top, and Castiel glanced down where her dress had ridden up and her panties were polka-dotted too. She guided his hand down, fingers pressed between his, rubbing his hand against her sex.

"Oh, oh, is it supposed to be so hot, and so, wet?"

Castiel rubbed his hand along the soft curls of hair and down lower between her legs where there was so much going on he had no idea what to do. It was surprisingly slick. He thought it would be sticky. But his fingers slipped easily deeper between silky skin.

"Mhmm, that’s a good thing. General rule of thumb, the wetter the better."

"Hm."

Castiel pressed against her tentatively, Meg still had a hand down there with him, and he knew he was over thinking things again but he couldn’t tell where anything was supposed to be.

"Ok, here, just, hold your two fingers like this, yeah that’s right, and let the others relax, there you go, and just rub up and down the length, yeah, yeah, this here, do you feel that, that’s the clit, circle your fingers over - fuck - just like that."

Meg pulled her hand away, giving him more room to work while he repeated the motion she demonstrated, pushing his fingers down between plump skin and pulling up around the top, rubbing in circles as she rocked up against him, grinding herself against his hand. She still had a hand on his cock, languidly stroking while she pressed her face to his neck and sucked on his earlobe. He hadn’t the faintest idea why it should feel so good when she rolled his earlobe between her teeth.

"All right, go lower, down, yeah push in, both fingers, it’s fine, it’s good, god you have long fingers."

Castiel was sitting on the roof of a funeral home with his fingers inside a girl for the first time while his father was in a casket below them. He could pay no amount of contrition or say enough Hail Mary’s to wipe away what he was doing. It felt just this side of wrong enough to make him squirm, but it was better than any repressed sexual fantasies he had ever tried to pray away before.

"Harder, keep moving, press the heel of your palm down while - ah shit - like that, like that, harder. Crook your fingers towards my belly, fuck."

As much as Castiel was working to follow her instructions, she was pushing herself against him and writhing on his hand. Her grip on his cock was almost too tight, teeth sharp on his neck, breath hot panted against his skin and he was fascinated by all the sounds she made, the breathy little gasps and the choked off sobs and the drawn out moans. She was wetter and slicker and he slipped a third finger in while she groaned and rubbed against him. Then, suddenly, he felt her squeeze around his fingers and Castiel froze, starting to pull out fearing that he had hurt her when her hand clamped around his wrist.

"Don’t, don’t - ah keep going, just a little more - please, please, fuck, please."

Pushing deep insider her as she bucked and convulsed around him, Castiel held his breath when she slumped against him groaning. He was worried until he heard her giggle, her hand pulling him out.

"Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

"No, god no."

She took a shaky breath, still leaning against him with her head on his shoulder.

"Oh fuck, that was fantastic. You gave me an orgasm, that’s, that happens when girls come."

"That was frightening."

She sat up and laughed, adjusting her panties, the front of her dress still hanging open, hand still on his very, painfully, hard cock.

"Oh you sweet, naive thing."

Castiel leaned forward when she took her hand off him, pushing it down the front of her panties, and he wondered if he had been inadequate in his attentions but then she was pulling her hand back out and it was wet when she wrapped it around him again. Pulling him down for a kiss, mouth loose and sloppy, she slid her hand along his length only three times before he groaned against her and shuddered, muscles tensing and face scrunched up against the intensity of it as he breathed into her mouth, bodies tangled up.

She was smiling at him, still so close, hand loose around his softening cock before she pulled it away and wiped her hand down the side of his shirt. He made a displeased face at her, looking down and realizing he had a trail of semen up his shirt and tie.

"Fuck."

"Oooh, did you just curse? Tsk."

"I have to go back to the wake."

"Yeah."

"I have semen on my shirt."

Meg was looking amused at his predicament. She wiped her hand down his sleeve as she giggled.

"Just put your jacket back on and button it up, no one will notice."

She leaned back against the side of the house, one leg still slung over his, debauched and immodest and uninterested in that fact as she pulled another cigarette out and lit it.

"Oh no," He groaned, "I’m going to smell like smoke too."

Castiel was panicking now that the arousal had ebbed away with his orgasm and his return to his family was imminent.

"We’ll stop in the bathroom and wipe you down, I’ll spritz you with some of my perfume, you can pretend like you were just innocently kissing a girl in a dark corner."

"That’s highly inappropriate behavior to engage in at my father’s wake."

She shrugged and breathed smoke out away from him.

"We all mourn in our own ways."

Meg was looking irritated now and Castiel felt self conscious. He liked her. And not just because of what she did with him. He pulled his pants fully back up and buckled them, getting his jacket on as well. Smoothing her skirt down over her thighs, Castiel kissed her cheek, then her lips when she turned against him.

"I like you, Meg."

"Sweet on me already, huh?"

Meg stubbed her half used cigarette out and put it back in the box, tucking it in her bra and buttoning her dress up. She held a hand out to him.

"Here, give me your phone."

Castiel blinked and drew his cell out of his jacket pocket. Meg took it from him and he watched as she put a phone number in it. That was probably her phone number. She was giving him her number. She wanted to see him again. Starting a relationship with a girl after meeting at his father’s wake seemed a tad distasteful to Castiel, macabre even, but then she was smiling at him and passing his phone back.

"Call me sometime, you can’t spend all your free time studying."

He nodded mutely, and she flattened his hair down against his head, tightened his tie, pressed a kiss to his lips before pulling the window open and crawling back into the attic. Castiel followed, treading quietly down the steps when she led him into a different part of the house, shutting the two of them in a bathroom. Meg wet a towel and wiped down his shirt and tie, although it didn’t do much good. She pulled a bottle of perfume out of the vanity and sprayed it into the air in front of him, just waving it towards him so he would only smell vaguely like it.

Meg fussed over him and pulled him down for another kiss, and he parted his lips to let her in, circling an arm around her waist while he bent down and kissed her deeper, already feeling more comfortable with the gesture.

"All right, let’s get you back."

She turned away to open the door but he caught her wrist, taking a deep breath. “Meg, thank you.”

"The pleasure was all mine."

It was jarring going back downstairs to the crowds milling around and over spilling out of the room where the services were being held. The minute he made it back in line of Michael’s sight, his brother was frowning severely at him. Castiel knew that he should be nervous, worried what his siblings might think of his prolonged absence or if they would smell anything on him. All he felt was relaxed, content. He had something in his life outside of his family and school for the first time in, well forever, something to look forward to, a secret that was just his.

Castiel tried not to smile when he took his place next to his siblings again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from the Type O Negative song 'Black No. 1'


	2. Dessert

Castiel went back to his quiet, orderly life after the funeral with his stern, orderly family. Meg’s phone number was in his cell, figuratively burning a hole in his pocket. She had told him to call on the weekend when he wasn’t busy. But the weekend after the funeral was still hectic with the ongoing re-organization of their familial structure and household. His father’s belongings still needed to be packed up and sent off to charity. Michael had moved back in to the family house. He was thirty three and still a bachelor - a fact that their father had disapproved of - but he was successful working in their father’s company and after the death Michael stepped up to replace him.

It was strange having Michael in the house again. Raphael, although twenty six, had still been living with them while he worked through grad school. Lucifer and Gabriel both had moved out, and whereas Gabriel stayed away with the exception of perfunctory family gatherings, Lucifer was always wandering back. Without their father to pick fights with, Lucifer made his presence known that weekend in sorting out affairs. Castiel had the uneasy sense of dread that the second eldest son would be vying with Michael for some sort of influence.

Naomi, of course, was attempting to play peace maker. She would be moving out in a year’s time though, being currently engaged at twenty four and ready to play the part their father had expected of her - marriage and a family. As the eldest daughter and the first adopted, she had known their mother for eighteen years of her life and Castiel suspected she most keenly felt the brunt of the their father’s disapproval. She was a bitter, spiteful person. Castiel pitied her. Anna was the youngest to have gotten away from the family; she had cut ties monetarily as a way to sever their father’s influence, earning her way into college on a scholarship and working part time to support her rent of a room in a shared house. Castiel still talked to her sometimes, although rarely, as Michael and Raphael both disapproved.

The rest of the children remained in the house as they worked through college, high school, and in Hanna and Hael’s case grade school. Their house was large, easily accommodating all of them, and their lives were easy.

After a full day on Saturday of petty squabbling, packing boxes, power grabs, a few shouting matches and a tense dinner, the whole family that still lived at home - plus Lucifer - went to church together early Sunday morning. The congregation all knew their family well, their father having donated considerable sums to the church. There were condolences and vacuous platitudes all around. Castiel despised it, but he nodded solemnly and let people pat his shoulder and turned his eyes down in prayer. He hoped he appeared as properly bereaved as a dutiful son should.

The rest of Sunday was filled with preparations to return to school, having missed two days the week prior. All of his father’s siblings that had been in town had scattered back to their corners of the world after the funeral was finished and the estate settled. Michael almost seamlessly fit himself into the role of family patriarch, although he would no doubt be pestered by Lucifer for, well, forever.

The school week passed quickly, busy catching up on homework and staying late to take tests that he had missed. He thought about Meg more than a few times. Castiel was uncertain if there was, in fact, an unspoken rule about how long one is to wait to contact a person, or if he should call Meg anytime. Or if she had forgotten about him. He didn’t know if she was a friend, he’d only had her acquaintance for a few hours and Castiel was slow to call anyone a friend. He may have wondered if she were his girlfriend, which seemed entirely too presumptuous, but after the intimacy they shared he couldn’t be certain. Castiel had no precedent for this new development.

One thing was for certain, he was not going to ask any of his siblings for advice. Balthazar might be trustworthy enough to confide in, and Castiel knew his brother had at least a modicum of experience with the subject matter. But instead of talking about his barely existent social life, Castiel fretted silently and occupied his time helping Hael and Hannah with their own homework, researching colleges even though he was barely a junior, cleaning around the house, and when he had an hour for leisure here or there he liked to relax and watch the Discovery Channel or Antique’s Roadshow.

After school wound down Friday, homework half completed and a quiet formal dinner with his family passed, Castiel sat alone in his room contemplating his phone. After a few minutes agonizing that felt like eternity, he sat perched on the edge of his bed jigging one foot up and down, pressed her number, and said a quick prayer while he listened to it ringing.

"Hello?"

Oh no. She answered. He had no idea what to say. Didn’t he practice this several times already. His mind was blank.

"You know I can hear you fucking breathing whoever the fuck you are."

"Uh. Hello."

"Who is this?"

"Castiel."

"Oh, hey! Sorry, I didn’t have your number in my phone, so."

Castiel could feel himself sweating, he could actually feel his individual pores and the fluid secretions of his body’s response to this nervous awkwardness.

"Are you still with me there?"

"Yes. Sorry. I apologize I haven’t called sooner. It’s been a busy week."

"That’s fine. There’s always way more shit than you can imagine that needs to be taken care of when someone dies."

"Yes."

"Man, sorry, was that callous? I kinda lose perspective sometimes."

"It’s all right. There was definitely more to be sorted than I expected, though I was relegated to the menial tasks while my elder brothers squabbled. It’s just been busy at school, after taking off."

"How much did you miss?"

"Two days."

"Jesus, what kind of work load do they give you to need catching up after two days off."

"I’m in a fairly intensive college preparatory program."

"Damn. Good luck with that."

"Thank you."

"That was sarcasm."

"Oh."

He could hear Meg rustling and shifting over the phone, and quite inexplicably began to wonder what she was wearing. Castiel, although a teenage boy, tended to try very, very hard not to think of other people inappropriately. Meg did something to him. It was infuriating. He had an erection. How was he supposed to carry on a conversation and ask her out politely while he was fantasizing about what underwear she might be wearing.

"Um. I was wondering. Perhaps, if you’re not busy this weekend, we could... maybe... see each other?"

He heard her stifle a laugh. It was all right if she was laughing at him, he liked her laugh, it made her prettier.

"I would actually, really like to Cas. But I’m gonna be pretty busy this weekend with work."

"You work?"

"Yeah, just part time at McDonalds. I know, it’s very glamorous. But anyway, I’ve got a full shift on Saturday and Sunday."

"I see."

"Hanging out on the weekdays would work better for me. I don’t work after school."

"You want to go out on a school night?"

"Yeah. What, do you have a curfew of like six pm?"

"I don’t know if I have a curfew."

"You don’t know if you have a curfew."

"No."

"My god you really don’t ever get out do you?"

"No."

"Ok, so, what day is good for you next week?"

Castiel had a death grip on the bedsheets beneath him, rolling his eyes upward and thinking for a minute. "Well, I have chess club on Mondays, and the debate team meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"Wednesday would be good for me."

"All right. I’ll have to check with my brother." That was going to go over well. 

"Your brother?"

"Yes."

"God don’t tell me you live in one of those ultra conservative families where only the men can make important decisions and your mother has now been retired to a rocking chair to sew for the rest of her life."

"My mother is dead."

"Ah shit. Fuck, I’m sorry."

"It’s all right, it happened a while ago. My eldest brother, Mike, he’s thirty three. He moved back into the house, he’s taking care of us."

"Yeah ok. So, ask him about Wednesday. I promise I won’t keep you out till the witching hour."

"The witching hour?"

"Yeah. Midnight. It’s called the witching hour, it’s supposed to be the best time for like spell work and stuff because of the moon."

Castiel wasn't entirely certain what he was getting himself in to with Meg. "Oh. That’s very interesting. Please, never ever mention anything like that around my family. They are ultra conservative, as you say."

"Sure, I gotcha."

Castiel’s face felt odd. He realized he was smiling. Had he been smiling most of the conversation?

"Hey, so, I gotta head out, but I’ll give you a call tomorrow after work, ok? I get off at eight, ask your brother about Wednesday yeah?"

"I will do that. Have a good night."

"Night Cas."

Castiel hung up his phone, set it on the night stand, and collapsed on his bed. He took a deep shuddering breath. He’d never done anything like this before. He’d never done any of the things that he’d done with Meg. He had no idea what he was going to say to Michael or how he was going to explain meeting her or if he could keep a straight enough face to lie to his brother about what they got up to.

But it was definitely going to be worth it.

Shifting uncomfortably, Castiel was still hard in his pants. He got up and adjusted himself, going to his desk and sitting to complete some homework. He was intent on ignoring it. That turned out to be impossible. He sat at his desk staring blankly at his math homework for about a half hour before he decided that his erection was not going to go away on it’s own. He considered a cold shower. But when he touched himself through his pants, he thought of Meg touching him, and he ended up laying on his bed with his pants down to his thighs masturbating. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. About her polka dot panties, about the taste of her mouth, the heat of her body, about her breath across his neck and the sound of her voice while she gave him detailed instructions. He liked listening to her instructions. Castiel came hard against his belly - biting his wrist - when he started thinking about how she sounded as he gave her an orgasm.

Castiel slept well that night, after he had tidied the evidence of his activities and stuffed the tissues to the very bottom of his waste basket. On Saturday he was determined to get Michael at least mostly alone to ask him about going out. There was no way Castiel would get a yes if Raphael was around to back up Michael. And if Naomi were present she would most likely see right through his fibs; she was like a human lie detector. Slinking around the house all day, completing his chores and homework distractedly, Castiel jumped on the chance after dinner when Michael was reading in the living room with only Balthazar, who was frowning at some of his own homework.

"Michael, can I speak to you for a minute?"

His brother set down the book he was reading, turning a hard stare to Castiel.

"I have very little time to actually relax and pursue my own interests with how busy I’ve been settling our father’s affairs, I hope you know that."

"I am aware."

Michael sighed. “What’s so important then?”

"I wanted to go out with a friend on Wednesday after school, I need to know what my curfew is."

Balthazar looked up at that, not even pretending to be doing his homework anymore, glancing between Castiel and Michael.

"A friend? Are they from school?" Michael asked.

"No."

He would not offer any more information than was strictly necessary.

"Where did you meet them?"

"At the wake, last week."

"Charming. Are they a relative then?"

"No."

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers before glaring at Castiel.

"I’m going to need to know who this person is if I’m going to allow you to see them, you’ll have to volunteer some information."

"Her name is Meg Masters. She’s the daughter of the funeral director."

"Go Cassie, getting frisky at a funeral huh?"

Castiel shot Balthazar a harsh glare, hoping he could silence his brother with a look alone, but nothing ever silenced Balthazar for very long.

"It was at the wake, not the funeral. I just needed a little space."

Michael’s assessing stare was disconcerting. “So that’s where you had gone off to?”

"Yes."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What happened?"

"We talked for a little bit. She has a very - unique - perspective, I suppose, being around all of that, and it was comforting."

"What do you intend on doing Wednesday?"

"I’m not sure. Dinner?"

"Well find out and let me know."

"I will. Is that a yes, to go?"

"A tentative yes. Where does she go to school?"

"She goes to public school."

"Which one?"

"I’m not certain."

"How old is she?"

"Uh - "

Balthazar was snickering at him.

"Castiel. Find out how old she is, where she goes to school, what your plans are for Wednesday, give me her phone number, and then you may go. But, you will have to be home by eight, and I expect to meet her."

"Yes sir."

Castiel nodded and beat a hasty retreat, counting that as a victory. He had started calling Michael 'sir'; they always called their father 'sir' and it sort of shifted to his eldest brother. Michael probably liked that.

Castiel spent the rest of the evening watching the clock and reading for pleasure. When eight o’clock came around, he was immediately on his phone. Then he considered that Meg said she was getting off work at eight. So she probably needed to go home and change, get settled, maybe shower. How long should he give her before calling? Castiel decided to be patient, she said she would call him, so she would call. He had shut himself in his bedroom, and he hadn’t even made it to the ‘talking on the phone with her’ point before getting an erection. This was going to be a problem.

Then his phone rang and he answered it hastily.

"Hello Meg."

"Heya Cas, how’s it going?"

"Good. How was work."

"Man, I cannot believe how stupid the general populace is," She groaned.

"Ah, so, a bad day?"

"Eh it was average. Not much happening. What did you do all day, did you talk to your brother?"

"Yes."

"Cool, so we on for Wednesday?"

Castiel dearly wanted to believe that was a hint of excitement he heard in her voice.

"I need a little more information on you first."

"Information on me? Like what? Is your brother going to do a background search? Do you need blood samples?"

"That’s ... actually not too far from the truth."

"Oh god what am I getting myself in to."

"I’m sorry, if you’re not interested -"

"No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. So, what do you need to know?"

Castiel was suddenly feeling like he should know the answers to these questions already, and it made him nervous to ask.

"Um. How old are you?"

"Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen next month."

"All right. And where do you go to school?"

"Firestone."

"So, you’re a senior?"

"Yeah."

"I’m a junior."

"That’s not a big diff."

"Not really."

"Anything else?"

"What were you planning on, for Wednesday?"

"Dunno, shouldn’t you be making the plans?"

"Huh, why?"

"Nothing, don’t worry about it. So, how about just dinner, we can always hang with some of my friends if you want. Somewhere nice and public."

"I think that would be best."

"Okay, well, they usually loiter around the Country Kitchen, you know where that is?"

"No."

"On Market St."

"I still have no idea."

"Do you drive Cas?"

"No."

"Huh. Well, I do. I know where St Sebastian’s is, I can pick you up after school, drop you off at home after."

"Would you mind?”

"Nah, it’s totally cool. I’ve had a car since I was sixteen, I’m used to being the taxi."

"I don’t want to use you for a taxi."

She laughed; he really, really liked her laugh.

"It’s fine. There anything else you need to tell your brother?"

"Do you mind if I give him your number?"

"Go right ahead."

"Thank you. I think that’s all I need to know for Michael."

"Great. Well, is there anything you want to know for yourself?"

Castiel spent the next hour talking to her. Although, he mostly just listened to her talk. He was never much of a conversationalist, and usually found it difficult to make small talk with casual acquaintances. It always felt so shallow and compulsory, dictated by social norm and meaningless. But with Meg, he wanted to know everything about her, he was fascinated by her stories of the mal-functioning deep fryer at work, and the funny faces some of the corpses came in to the funeral home stuck with when she snuck around in the basement, and how much she loved her English class in school and reading Shakespeare although Pre-calc could, apparently, ‘go fuck itself’.

Castiel hid from his family in his bedroom for most of Saturday night while he talked to Meg, then afterward when he was thinking about what they talked about, then when he was distracted with thinking about what he wanted to talk to her about on Wednesday. He went to bed late, rising too early for Sunday mass with his family, and passing the rest of the weekend in tedium.

Wednesday managed to come around simultaneously too slowly and too quickly. When it was upon him he fretted about what he should wear to school because Meg was picking him up afterward, but they wore uniforms so it wasn't as though he had a choice. He barely heard a word that his teachers said throughout the day.

Castiel had not in the slightest been exaggerating when he stated that he did not get out. He didn’t socialize outside of his family and school. He didn’t like much of the kids at school. And they didn’t seem to like him. Castiel took up debate and chess because he was told he would need extra curricular activities to get into college. He had never ‘hung out’ with his peers for just the sake of doing so.

Nervous when the bell let out for the day, walking swiftly through the halls to the parking lot where Meg said she would pick him up, Castiel poured outside amidst the stream of teenagers rushing to leave. Normally, he rode home with Balthazar. How his brother had managed to wrangle the amount of freedom necessary to have his own car was a mystery to Castiel, but he had a way with words. Of course, that meant he was saddled with taking Castiel and Uriel home from school most days since they were all in high-school together. But when Balthazar had lacrosse practice after school, either Rachel or Hester would swing by for him, and for Uriel, it depended on who was available.Today, Castiel wasn’t going home with his family.

He recognized Meg halfway across the lot, leaning against her car smoking. She was wearing a pleated red plaid skirt that went to only mid-thigh with fishnet tights and combat boots, a form fitting black t-shirt and bangles on her arms. The dress code at her public school must be very lax. Then Castiel noticed the car she was driving was a black hearse and he was truly, deeply awed that she could be so brazen and unique without any care for the opinions of others. There were two boys from his school standing near her talking, and she seemed to be attempting to ignore them.

Making his way over, Castiel recognized the boys from his morning History class although he couldn’t even remember their names. One of them was making lewd gestures at Meg and Castiel scowled as he stepped into the bubble of their conversation. Meg arched an eyebrow at one of the boys and immediately reached for Catiel, pulling him down to her level by the tie he wore and kissing him. He was shocked into stillness momentarily before circling an arm around her shoulder and tipping down into it. He was vaguely aware that he shouldn’t be doing this in public, but it was exciting and he had been fantasizing about Meg’s lips for several weeks. She tasted like her clove cigarettes. Meg winked at him when she pulled back.

“Heeeeey, Novak, guess you’re not some rainbow riding faggot like we all thought huh?”

The other boy snickered at his friends homophobic joke. Castiel squinted at them. Meg shoved him.

“Fucking asshole, get out of here.”

“Oooh tough bitch huh?”

Castiel didn’t like where this heading, he pulled Meg back by the arm and gestured to the car, brushing past the two boys to open the passenger door and end whatever escalation they were aiming for. Meg at least went with it, climbing in and turning on the car. Loud, angry music blared through the speakers and made Castiel jump in his seat. She rolled down a window and flipped the two boys off as she pulled out of her spot.

Meg turned the volume down at least to a level that they could talk as she maneuvered the massive car out of the parking lot weaving through the rush of end of the day exodus.

“What is this music, if you can call it music?”

“It’s Korn.”

“Korn?”

“Yeah, Korn. With a ‘K’.”

“It sounds very angry.”

“That’s why I like it.”

Castiel sat with his book bag on the footwell between his feet, hands folded in his lap, trying to focus on the houses and businesses passing by outside the car but his gaze kept darting over to Meg and where the skirt was riding up her thighs and how her slender fingers curled around the steering wheel.

“I’ve never ridden in a hearse before, it doesn’t seem like a very practical car.”

“Ha, practical, this thing fucking syphons away all my money in gas. But it was free, my dad gave it to me when it started to get old and a little testy. Breaking down on the road with a corpse in the back isn’t really a good idea.”

“I wouldn’t think so either.”

She stopped at a light and leaned across the seat to elbow him, smiling widely.

“Plus it’s got plenty of room in the back.”

Castiel glanced through the small window in the partition between the front and back. There were pillows strewn back there. Oh, no, that was not something he should be thinking about. He nodded in assent, going quiet again while Meg drove and tapped along to the music on her steering wheel. They were only on the road for a few minutes when Meg was pulling in to a diner, the Country Kitchen as promised, and she was pulling her large old hearse in next to another sleek black car. Castiel left his bag in the car when he got out, and Meg came around to his side before he could close the door.

“Looks like my friends are here.”

She gestured to the other car.

“Who are your friends?”

“Well Ruby’s been my best friend since like grade school, and she met this kid at school Sam, she’s dating him now, and he has a big brother Dean that you couldn’t pry from his side with a fucking crowbar. So the three of them are usually all hanging out.”

Castiel was committing the information to memory when Meg started to remove his uniform blazer. He blinked at her, letting himself be turned around and lifting his arms from his sides. Meg tossed it in the passenger seat and started to loosen his tie.

“What are you doing?”

“Not taking you in there looking some yuppie rich kid.”

“I am a yuppie rich kid.”

“And I intend on fixing that.”

“Alright.”

She removed his tie and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, then the sleeve cuffs, rolling them up to his elbows.

“There. Better. We’ll work more on this later.”

“Work on what?’

“Playing dress up.”

She stood on her toes to press a kiss to his lips, pushing her fingers through his hair and mussing it up. Castiel didn’t mind her attentions in the slightest. If he were honest with himself, he was curious what Meg might think to dress him in. He never paid any mind to his clothes, he wore what was given to him. He trailed after her as she entered the diner and made her way to a booth in a far corner where a young brunette girl was pressed up to a scrawny boy, both of them eating french fries. There was an older boy slouched in the booth opposite them, in a faded black tee with one arm slung over the back of the booth. He had startlingly green eyes.

Meg made introductions, pushing Castiel into the booth next to the older boy, Dean, and following after him. He was smooshed in the middle and there wasn’t room enough to sit without touching both Meg and Dean, but neither seemed to mind. He tried not to sit with overly straight posture, but couldn’t manage a slouch like Dean without looking awkward. Meg leaned into his space, lifted one of his arms and pulled it over her shoulder forcing him to sit with a tilt into her space, and that felt comfortable.

Castiel ordered chicken fingers for himself, and a water. He had a small amount of cash from his weekly allowance. Sam and Ruby seemed intent on devouring their combined weight in french fries loaded with toppings. Dean was having coffee and pie. Meg ordered mozzarella sticks. Castiel picked at his food most of the time quietly, while the others mumbled around mouth fulls and made jokes and spoke crudely. It was interesting, and for as nervous as he was Castiel found himself really, really wanting to fit in. They poked him to join the conversation several times, but for the most part, he had no idea what they were talking about. It was all pop culture references and the going on’s of the school where Meg, Ruby and Sam went, as well as sex jokes that made him blush - he was teased for that.

It was fun. Actual, f-u-n fun, like kids do. They lingered in the diner for several hours until Dean had to beg off for a night job somewhere.

It was just past six, still an hour and some until Castiel had to be back home. He knew he had several hours of homework to complete, but he still planned on staying out as late as he possibly could. They all shuffled out of the diner together and Meg pulled him around to the back, in the opposite direction of their cars, but everyone else was heading back there too.

"Hey, Cas, we’re gonna hang a minute for a smoke."

Castiel nodded, standing next to Meg where she leaned back against the cinder block building. Ruby and Sam were a few feet away, in each other’s spaces, giggling and whispering at each other.

Dean leaned against the wall next to Meg, asking "Lemme bum one of those?"

"Man, you’re not in school anymore, you got a full time job, can’t you get your own cigarettes?" Meg shoved him. Not very gently.

"Yeah but I don’t have them with me."

"You’re just going to complain about my cloves."

"That’s because they’re fucking cloves. They’re like pussy cigarettes for wannabe hipsters."

"I’m not a fucking hipster, I’m a goth you inbred redneck hillbilly."

"Fuck you Meg."

"Fuck you Winchester."

Castiel was baffled by this exchange. They didn’t sound particularly angry with one another but they used angry words. Meg still took out an extra cigarette, lit it and passed it to Dean. Castiel always thought that smoking was supposed to be a disgusting habit, and although he didn’t find it attractive per se, the smell of her clove cigarettes was pleasant like a pungent incense. They loitered and smoked and insulted each other. Castiel was even included with a ‘fuck you’ at one point.

When the others headed out and Castiel was sitting in the passenger seat next to Meg again, he gave her directions to his house. It was almost seven, he didn’t have to be home quite yet.

"I have a little time, if you want to, um…"

"I got a few ideas."

"Oh?"

"So I have to get you back by eight?"

"Yes."

"I can work with that."

Castiel didn’t know exactly what she meant by ‘I can work with that’, but he knew what he wanted for her to mean. They pulled away from the diner and drove along through the downtown area until the bright and well maintained store facades started to fade, where buildings had boarded windows like band aid patches, and the asphalt lots were cracked and being overrun by weeds. It was the bad side of town, and Castiel had only ever passed through here a few times. Meg stopped here.

She pulled into a parking lot where an old strip mall sat abandoned, some windows covered, others broken out and left open, the sides of the building covered with graffiti. Meg opened her door and stepped out, circling around the car. Castiel followed her. She was opening the back to the hearse, the door swinging out, and she made a small curtsey while gesturing the interior of it.

"After you."

Castiel stooped and peered inside the back, the sides covered with a soft fabric, the floor of it strewn with blankets and pillows. When he knelt and crawled inside, it felt like there was some of padding or foam underneath him. Meg had made the back of her hearse into a den of iniquity. It couldn’t possibly be for any other reason. A brief thought failed to coalesce in his mind, that of questioning how many people she had been with back here, but it didn’t matter because she was here with him now.

Castiel sat cross legged and partially hunched over leaning against the partition to the front. Meg crawled in and closed the door behind her. It had a curtain drawn across the window; the space was dark and secret, no one could see them here. He entertained the fantasy that the whole world was only the two of them.

Meg was able to sit in the back with her head barely brushing the roof. She tapped something on her phone, setting it aside.

"I put an alarm on my phone, so don’t worry about what time it is or anything else, ok?"

Castiel nodded. She smiled at him, licked her lips, reached down to the waist of her shirt and pulled it over her head as she curled to remove it in the confined space. She was wearing a scarlet red bra today. It looked soft. Meg pulled at the ankle of one of his legs and Castiel stretched to straighten them out as she slunk onto his lap, arms braced against the partition behind his head. She bent forward to kiss him, and it was easier every time to part his lips and let her in.

Castiel was intent on the movements of their mouths together, focused to the point that Meg lifted his hands and placed them on his hips.

"Is it so hard to multi task?"

"It’s a lot to take in at once."

"Just put your hands on me while you kiss me. I’m going to take your shirt off."

Castiel nodded and fitted his hands to the slope of her hips, dragging his palms up the soft smooth skin and reaching around her waist to feel out the planes of her back. She was warm and alive underneath his touch, skin shifting over muscle and bone, the contours and shapes of her body so different from his own. Nimble fingers unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it over his shoulders, her graceful hands sure as they trailed over his chest and stomach.

He wasn’t the most athletic youth, favoring academics to sports, although he worked out because keeping the body fit was important to keeping the mind fit. Castiel was aware from other’s perspectives and taunts that he seemed thin, perhaps even scrawny. He didn’t consider himself weak, he may not be bulky but he had a slight definition - in the right light. Meg seemed to like his body well enough, nipping at his lower lip and kissing over his jaw while she scratched lightly down his torso, fingers gripping into the soft flesh of his sides as she rocked on his lap, hot through the fabric of his pants.

When he didn’t have to focus as much on kissing her as she moved down his neck, he let his hands roam along her back and dared to flit down over the mesh on her thighs, fingers brushing under the hem of her skirt. Soft hair fell across his cheek and tickled his chest, fragrant and floral, he turned into it and kissed the curve of her ear.

Meg started to open his pants and Castiel’s hands stuttered on their upward path along her thighs.

She pushed herself up, smiling at him. “Here, why don’t we get a little more comfortable.”

Tugging at his hips, Meg scooted backward, and Castiel sank down, body unfolding and sprawling on top of the blankets while he shifted a few pillows around. Meg had his pants to his thighs as she draped herself along him, body hot and sinuous, she rolled her hips down against his thigh, rubbing herself on him, fingers curling around his erection.

Castiel took a deep breath, hips twitching up into her hold, and he pushed his hands under her skirt, between her legs.

"That’s good Cas, why don’t you pull my panties down?"

That was an excellent suggestion. He was grateful Meg knew exactly what she wanted and was willing to impart this wisdom on him. Using both hands to pull at the waist band of her tights and panties together, he felt the fabric give and roll as he tugged them down. With her straddling his thigh they didn’t go far, but far enough to push his hand back between her legs and feel the soft thatch of her curls and the slick heat of her skin against him bare.

Meg seemed satisfied with this arrangement, laying against his chest to slot their lips together again while she steadily pulled her hand along his cock, tighter, and he slipped two fingers inside her. It wasn’t a kiss so much as it was sharing breath, panting against each other and rocking their bodies together, lips brushing, skin heated, hands hurried. Castiel came too fast when she twisted her hand around him and she had more technique touching his cock than he did.

Although she was wet, he hadn’t felt that almost violent clench around his fingers like the first time, and Castiel wasn’t certain if he had made her orgasm as well or not, but she was sliding off him, wiping her hand on his belly, smiling and breathless.

"Did I - was that good?"

"Oh yeah."

"You had an orgasm?"

"Not quite. Don’t worry about it, doesn’t happen every time."

"It doesn’t?"

"Nah, but I have fun anyway."

She looked loose and relaxed, chest expanding as she breathed and he watched the swell of her cleavage before reaching out to trace his fingertips along the edge of her bra. Meg shivered and pushed against his touch, humming and folding an arm under her head as she lay on her side regarding him. Castiel brushed dark tangled hair off her face, curling it behind an ear, palm lingering over her cheek. Although he dreaded it, he needed to ask her something if he were to see her again. Castiel couldn’t fathom not seeing her again.

"Would you mind coming over to meet my brother? He doesn’t want me to see you unless he’s met you first."

"Seems a little early for the whole ‘meet the parents’ thing doesn’t it? Or - guardians. Whatever."

Castiel could agree completely that it was too early, too much, too fast. He had no prior experience to base this judgment on, but he felt there was something dangerous in falling so easily for someone. Abstinence until marriage was the unquestionable motto of his social and religious universe. Yet despite the shame heaped on his female peers, the boys in his school still objectified them and made a game out of getting under their skirts. It was confusing to say the least. Castiel wasn’t even certain if he still counted as a virgin or not, he hadn’t had sexual intercourse with Meg although they’d been sexually intimate. There were too many variables to consider that he couldn’t decide what the right course of action was .

"Meg, are you my girlfriend?"

She laughed for a second until she stopped abruptly, eyes narrowed at him.

"You’re serious."

"Yes."

"We’ve only known each other a few weeks."

"Don’t the - activities, we’ve engaged in presuppose that sort of relationship?"

"Not really. I’m kind of a slut if you haven’t noticed."

"Sluts can have relationships can’t they?"

Meg rolled her eyes and pushed playfully at his face.

"You’re fucking ridiculous Cas, anyone tell you that?"

"Yes."

"Ungh. So. You want to call me your girlfriend and take me home to your brother for approval?"

"I don’t want to call you my girlfriend, I want you to be my girlfriend. I want to be your boyfriend."

"I’m not really relationship material, I’m not the kind of person you take home to meet your parents - or, brother."

"Why not?"

"That’s not obvious to you?"

"No."

Meg stared at him, the conversation lulling, and Castiel felt she might be thinking about it so he remained quiet. She was lying with her shirt still off, bra on, one strap fallen over her shoulder, and on her side the dip of her waist was even more accentuated. Her black lined eyes flicked back and forth between his, and he held her gaze.

"Yeah all right. I’ll be your girlfriend."

Castiel smiled, leaning into her space to press a kiss to her lips, brushing her hair off her neck. She was his girlfriend. His first girlfriend.

"Hell, I’ll even go mono for you. Cause I like you."

"Go mono?"

"Yeah. Monogamous."

"You don’t usually?"

She rolled her shoulder that wasn’t pressed to the floor of the hearse.

"No not really. "

"But isn’t that what a relationship is supposed to be? Aren’t we supposed to be faithful to each other?"

"If your definition of a relationship is based on the concept of monogamy that’s kind of sad. There’s a lot of different kinds of relationships out there."

"Have you had different kinds of relationships?"

"Yeah, here and there. I’ve been with a few guys, a few girls, some casual hook ups, one that was a little more."

"Oh. Oh, you’re bisexual?"

"Mm. Just call me queer."

Castiel shifted his hips, pushing one leg between hers, enjoying the ease he felt around her in being close to her. It was nice, being able to touch, being near her warmth, it wasn’t something he’d ever thought he needed. He hadn’t realized how little he was ever touched in day to day life; they didn’t hug in his family, there weren’t congratulatory pats or comforting embraces. Everyone in his life was distant, separate, isolated. The two times he’d been with Meg this became starkly apparent for how frequently she leaned into his space, how quick she was to touch, to lay her head on his shoulder, to put her hand on his waist. He liked it.

"You come from a really conservative family, Cas. You’re taking all this pretty well."

"I’ve never really thought about any of these things, not enough to form my own opinion on the matter."

"But you want to?"

"Want to what?"

"Form your own opinion. Think about it. Most people, they just believe what they’re told."

"Well, I suppose I usually do that. Take my father, my brothers, my teachers, my pastor’s words on faith alone. But some of it doesn’t make sense. You know, in our sex ed class, we were told that sex before marriage is like taking a piece of fresh gum and chewing it, then spitting it out. That you’re used, damaged, no one wants chewed gum. It’s, ridiculous, over simplified. It’s not an accurate analogy. "

Meg rolled onto her back laughing, eyes squeezed shut and one hand clasped over her stomach.

"Oh my god that is ridiculous."

"I thought so as well."

"Ok, so, going with bad over simplified metaphors, how about this one. Let’s say you go out to like, a dessert buffet. And they have everything there. Ice cream, cake, cookies, donuts, pie, cupcakes, pudding. Everything you could think of and then some. And people expect you to go for a particular dessert. They think you’re only supposed to have this one. And it’s the only dessert you’re supposed to eat ever, for the rest of your life. They want you to pick out the dessert you want and never, ever try another one. Now, why would you pick something out and say ‘this is it, this is my dessert’ without at least sampling a few of them. Some people want to sample all of them. Some people are picky. But you should be able to have as much fucking dessert as you want."

Castiel was laughing quietly at her passionate tirade, he quite liked her metaphor better.

"Well, you can always spend time with a dessert, get to know it’s ingredients, before indulging in a taste."

"True. Or you could just pig out."

"I do like sweets."

"I bet you do."

Castiel curled an arm over her waist and up, fingers splaying along the space between her shoulder blades, brushing down the dip of her spine. He kissed her slowly, shallowly, still exploring and adjusting to the feel of it, of another person moving and wanting with him. Then the alarm on Meg’s phone went off, and she pulled away to scrabble for it and turn the annoying ringing off, glaring at the phone.

"Guess I gotta take you back now."

"Yes."

She sat up, hunched over in the low space, pulling her shirt back on. Castiel rolled onto his back and reached for his shirt but his stomach was smeared with his come. He frowned down at himself. Meg pulled the case off a pillow and tossed it him.

"Just use that."

Castiel wiped up as best he could, folding the pillow case inside out when he was finished. Meg was squirming around re-adjusting her tights as Castiel buttoned up his shirt. He could put on his tie and blazer while they drove back, both were still in the front seat.

"So you’ll come over for dinner?"

"Yeah. I’m going to be busy this weekend, got work on Friday after school, and Saturday and Sunday, plus this big group project for school due on Monday. Can we do the weekend after?"

"All right. Can I call you between now and then?"

"You fucking better if you’re going to be my boyfriend."

She smiled and swatted his chest before scooting and opening the door to the back, hopping out and straightening her skirt. Castiel was much less graceful in his exit from the back of a hearse. Oddly enough he didn’t think he’d mind getting used to it. The early autumn sky was still light, just starting to blush at the horizon, and Castiel found the decrepit disarray of the abandoned strip mall strangely beautiful as he sat back in the front seat.

"Not to offend, but would you mind dropping me off a block from home and I’ll walk the rest?" He asked.

"Sure. Don’t want me to have a run in with your brother quite yet, huh?"

"Not quite yet."

"I get it."

"Thank you."

"Don’t mention it."

She dropped him off exactly a block away, leaning across the seat to peck him on the lips before he got out of the car. Castiel slung his back pack on, blazer and tie re-affixed, and made his way home. Michael accosted him as soon as he was in the door, as was to be expected. Most of his siblings were suspiciously gathered in too casual appearing formations in the front room when he was stopped to relay to Michael what he had been up to. There was fibbing involved, mostly lying by omission, but his brother was placated at least that Meg would be coming over for dinner.

Castiel avoided the curiosity of his siblings and shut himself in his bedroom, working on his homework before bed. When he pulled his shirt off, it smelled like her. Like clove cigarettes and floral perfume, like the way the back of her hearse smelled of their bodies. He tucked himself under his sheets with the shirt bunched in his arms.


	3. Godless woman

Castiel couldn’t see Meg until she came over to meet Michael for his approval. Of course, Castiel knew that most of his siblings would be there as well to pass their own judgments. They usually had family dinners together every night, with most in attendance. Some of the older siblings - Naomi, Rachel, Hester, Raphael - would miss dinners occasionally due to work or college or other engagements outside the family. The younger siblings, none of them had many engagements outside the family. Castiel wasn’t the only shut-in. With the exception of Balthazar - Michael was unable to completely contain him - the younger ones went to school, school activities, and staid close to the house.

He’d never really given much thought to it. He’d never had the interest in making friends outside of school. Castiel studied, he helped take care of his younger siblings, he went to church. He had never thought to question much in his life and no one challenged him to. If anything, Michael worked to keep him closed off within the protective bubble of their family. Castiel had never given much thought to his family structure, his place in society, his future, and he realized the more that he talked to Meg, that he never gave much thought to himself as an entity in and of itself. He thought of himself in relation to others, to his duty - mostly in relation to his family.

Although Castiel didn’t necessarily think it was a bad thing, he found it difficult to attempt to break out of the cycles of thought to which he was so accustomed. Loyalty and obedience were so deeply ingrained in his mind from how his father had raised him that even in death the man held sway over him.

Between the Wednesday that he and Meg had made out in the back of her hearse, and the Friday one and a half weeks away that they were to have dinner, Castiel called Meg almost every night. She called him as well. He would hurry through his chores and homework so that he could spend an hour or more on his phone talking to her. Even if he couldn’t see her, he enjoyed talking, feeling like he was getting to know her. And there was a lot to know.

The thing that he liked best about Meg was that she challenged him. Not in a cruel or mocking way, she didn’t make fun of him like kids at school. Rather, she made him think and she expected him to answer her back. Castiel was on the debate team at school, he enjoyed the exercise of logic, but for the most part he found that he adopted stances and defended them for the sole purpose of winning a debate and not necessarily because it was something he believed. He was good at understanding the structure and finding the weak spots when an issue was clearly outlined, but he found he did not apply that skill much in his personal life. Although he had a rational grasp on many issues - or so he liked to think - he hadn’t bothered trying to understand them on an empathetic level.

Meg was above all passionate about causes that she found worthy. She liked to question him about feminism, and gay rights, the wars in the middle east, corruption in politics, greed in capitalism, the stagnation of religion. Castiel was amazed that she was so interested and knowledgeable on a wide array of issues that most grown ups actively avoided. He had the impression that teenage girls were interested in school dances and boys, which he didn’t completely believe, but Meg was so far outside the box of expectation that he found himself needing to know more, and more, because he found he was becoming interested himself in these issues.

Castiel wasn’t as well informed on these matters as Meg, so he researched. When she brought up a topic he knew nothing about but found interesting, he would look up articles on line after they talked and stay up past his bed time trying to understand Meg’s viewpoint, and to form his own opinion. He hadn’t ever comprehended how small his existence was. It was like he could see a world beyond his front doorstep for the first time.

Of course their conversations were not all serious. Meg liked to vent to him about getting her college applications in order. She was certain she would be going to the college in town because she wouldn’t have to move away from home, as long as she got the scholarships for it. She would ramble about strange occurrences around the funeral home. Azazel and Tom would chat about their work during dinner, and about how Tom was doing in college, and the new innovations being made in the mortuary industry. Castiel had no idea that so much work could go in to reconstructing a corpse just so that the bereaved family could have the closure, could say goodbye to a familiar face they knew. There was a mortician that worked for her father, Alistair, that was a genius at reconstruction according to Meg.

Castiel told her about a debate tournament he had a few counties over that he had to travel for. He told her about his brother Balthazar’s lacrosse game, and his sister Hanna’s performance in her school play. Castiel felt his life wasn’t anywhere near as interesting as Meg’s, but she always sounded interested and would lead him on with questions.

Several times he was on the phone talking to Meg, he could hear Ruby in the background needling her for information or just attention. He asked Meg about her friend. They had been best friends for so long and Castiel felt that he could understand more about Meg through the company that she kept. Meg told him that she and Ruby were more than friends, not really anymore but that they had been and they were still as close as that, despite the fact that they weren’t sexually intimate anymore. Meg told him - in no small amount of detail - about her own discovery and exploration of her sexuality with Ruby. They had been girlfriends for several years.

Although she had loved Ruby as a best friend, and the sex was apparently phenomenal, Meg felt like they couldn’t maintain that sort of intensity in their relationship forever. When Ruby met Sam in her second year of school, they came to a mutual agreement to move on but stay best friends. Castiel admired the depth of understanding they must have to be so flexible.

Meg even deigned to lower herself to petty gossip and shared a few stories about Ruby’s mothers. Her biological mother, Lilith, had divorced when Ruby was very young and went through several relationships with other women before settling down with a woman named Eve. When Ruby stole the phone from Meg, she was even more enthusiastic to gossip about her parents.

It was late on the Wednesday night before the dinner that Castiel caught Meg on the phone when she was with Ruby as well. They chatted for several minutes before Meg passed the phone to Ruby and told her to keep Castiel busy.

"Hello Ruby."

"Hi Cas, how’s it hanging?"

"Uh, as well as ever I suppose. How are you?"

"Oh, I’m good, I’m good. So, big day coming up, huh, gonna get Meg to meet your folks?"

"Yes. On Friday."

"It’s pretty serious between you two? She like, won’t get off the fucking phone these past few weeks."

"It’s serious."

"Uh-huh. So. Have you guys had sex yet?"

Castiel almost choked on his own spit. Honestly, where did girls like this come from.

"Oh god I can hear you blushing across the phone."

Ruby devolved into a fit of giggles and Castiel faintly heard Meg in the background yelling ' _Fucks sake Ruby go easy on him_.'

"Ok but seriously," Ruby’s voice lowered, like she didn’t want Meg to hear, "you should know I’m pretty protective of Meg. You’re not the kind of guy she usually goes out with. Which, frankly, is probably good. But, I’m not sure about you."

"I assure you I have no ill-intentions against your friend."

"Uh huh. Sure. No 'ill-intentions'."

Castiel found himself squinting confusedly even though he had nothing to squint at.

"You should know that I know how to hide a body - hey!"

"Sorry about that Cas, maybe I shouldn’t let her talk to you if she’s going to go from trying to get sex gossip out of you to threatening to murder you. "

It sounded like Meg was muffling the phone, a little slapping and bickering going on for a minute. They were arguing in what Castiel hoped was good nature.

_C’mon I’m just having a little fun …._

_…. I swear, are you on your period or something? ….. being fucking crazy Ruby…._

_Be careful Meg…._

_…..be fine._

"Hey. Sorry again. So, Friday’s close huh?"

Castiel tucked his feet under himself, sitting cross legged on his bed.

"Are you still coming?"

"Of course I am."

"Good. I’m looking forward to seeing you."

"Yeah me too. We just having dinner at your place, or you wanna, you know, hang out a little afterward?"

"I guess we’ll have to see how dinner goes."

"That makes sense."

"I need to ask you something. And I don’t mean to offend you in any way…."

"Spit it out."

"Please dress more conservatively for dinner, and try to be a little more polite, and don’t curse, and -"

"Cas."

"Yes?"

"Hey, I get it, first impressions are important and your family is like white bread traditional values."

"Very white bread traditional."

Castiel was grinning despite his nerves.

"It’s cool. I’ll wear something nice and play along. I do actually have clothes of the non slut variety you know."

"That would be best."

"Man, chill out, you don’t need to be so nervous."

"My brother is very strict."

“It’ll be fine. I’ll be on my best behavior. Pinky swear.”

Castiel let her shift the conversation to a lighter topic. Apparently a stray cat that lived around the woods near her house had been pregnant and had kittens. They were attempting to squirm their little kitten way into her father’s heart, who most assuredly did not want pets. Meg knew they’d never be allowed to have pets in the house, and she had caught her father shooing them off the porch one morning. But then she found an empty tuna can set on the steps. Castiel listened to her story; he had never had pets either. He had never considered it though. 

He was finding a lot of things amusing lately. He knew it was because of Meg, but he didn’t quite know why, his life was a little brighter. And not just when he was talking to Meg. All day long. Things looked better, he found himself noticing more of his surroundings and being fascinated by what he saw. Castiel thought it odd that a girl who always wore black, with black painted nails and black lined eyes, could make his world play in technicolor.

Friday night eventually came, after what seemed like an eon spending so much time talking to Meg over the phone. Castiel had his slacks and white button down with the school tie on still. Unfortunately, both Raphael and Naomi had managed to be home for dinner that night. More than likely they were coerced to by Michael. Or they just wanted to watch him crash and burn for their own amusement. Both Rachel and Hester were out. Hanna and Hael were fed early and told to study in their rooms. Uriel managed to wheedle a spot for himself at the table. Balthazar was present as well, and Castiel couldn’t decide if that were a good thing or not. Balthazar would either incite a situation if he butted heads with Meg, or would act as a distraction. Castiel wasn’t certain how the dinner would play out.

When he heard the doorbell ring at exactly seven o’clock, Castiel jumped from his spot on the couch where he had been reading the same page of his book for an hour. Michael made his way swiftly to the door first, however, and everyone jockeyed into their normal positions behind him according to age, eager for the unexpected excitement that was Castiel’s newly minted social life.

Castiel had been pushed to the back crowd of his siblings, craning his head up to catch Meg at the door, looking wide eyed. She was beautiful. And dressed conservatively. Castiel was almost surprised she had been respectful of his request, but she stood there in a deep plum button down shirt and black knee length pencil skirt looking very modest. She had black knee high socks on and the short heels like he had first seen her in a month ago now. The outfit was very flattering to her figure, but she was covered ankle to wrist. Her hair was pulled up in a neat pony tail, and although her nails were still black and the safety pins were in her ears, she wasn’t wearing the thick eye liner she favored. Castiel thought she looked perfectly respectable.

Michael greeted her, still in his business suit from work, extending one hand. His voice was hard and disapproving, but honestly, it always was. “Hello, you must be Ms. Masters.”

"It’s just Meg. And you’re… Michael?"

"Yes. Come in."

Everyone shuffled sideways in the strange coordination they were all attuned to, giving room for Meg to enter the foyer while Michael closed the door behind her. Castiel stepped out from the gathering and waved at her, smiling.

Meg didn’t wave back, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. It was completely unexpected. It was also warm and he could smell her cloves and floral perfume. It was only a brief hug, but Michael was still glaring at him when he pulled back.

"Hey Cas."

"Hello Meg. I’m glad you could make it."

"Yeah of course. So, who is everyone, aren’t you going to introduce me?"

That should have been Michael, but she was talking to Castiel, so he politely introduced her to everyone. Balthazar kissed her hand with a debonair flourish, while everyone else shook her hand, and the awkward tension was so high even for his family that Castiel was starting to sweat excessively. But then Michael was taking over again, ushering them to the formal dining room. Meg kept looking around the house, curious, glancing at Castiel from the corner of her eyes.

Naomi had made dinner with Raphael, a pot roast with potatoes and green beans. Michael sat at the head of the table and served everyone while dishes were passed around the table.

When everyone was settled, they all held hands, and Castiel nudged Meg to grasp his and reach next to her for Balthazar’s also. All his siblings bowed their heads, and although he caught a small scowl on Meg’s face, she remained quiet through the grace.

Conversation was mostly pleasant, although stilted, while they ate.

Meg had draped her napkin over her lap, and she ate with small neat bites. “Sorry I couldn’t come over until today, it can be hectic on my weekends. I have a part time job.”

Michael nodded, took a sip of his water before responding, “Castiel told me. So you work as well as attending school.”

“Yeah, it’s not really a lot of hours, but I pay for my car and insurance, small stuff you know.”

Naomi was perfectly prim, and her words sharp despite the feigning concern. “That must be difficult, to focus on school, even if you don’t have many hours.”

“It’s not too bad, I do all right. I’ve got a 3.4 gpa right now.”

Naomi nodded, “Yes well, you go to public school don’t you? Firestone, if I remember. Their standards aren’t very high.”

Meg arched an eyebrow and Castiel was holding his breath. “I’m sure it’s good enough. My brother went to Firestone too, and he got scholarships to UC, which is where I’m aiming to go. So I think I’ll be fine.”

Michael took the conversation back. “What are you planning to go to college for?”

“I’ll major in BioChem and go to mortuary school, work with my dad.”

“Has the funeral home been in your family a while?”

“Yep, me and Tom will be the fourth generation, my great grandfather started it.”

Michael nodded in acknowledgement and kept eating. Balthazar and Uriel seemed amused, like this was some sort of spectator sport. Castiel attempted to maintain neutral conversation. They chatted about school. He thought it was going pretty well until the conversation veered off a cliff, honestly he had no idea where the question had come from but Michael was asking, “What are your views on pre-marital sex?”

Castiel almost choked on his potatoes. “I’m not certain if that’s proper dinner conversation,” he nearly stuttered.

“It’s an important topic. Everyone at this table is old enough,” Mike spoke primly.

Meg looked between Castiel and Michael before turning to his brother and holding his eye contact. “That’s kind of a trick question, I’ll be honest. The thing is, I don’t really believe in marriage.”

Raphael put down his fork that had been halfway to his mouth. “Come again?”

“Well, it’s just that marriage is a religious institution.”

Raphael stated simply, “Yes.”

While Michael asked, “And?”

Meg shrugged. “I’m an atheist.”

Naomi’s fork clattered to her plate. Every one of Castiel’s siblings were looking at her. Meg opened her mouth like she was going to argue further, defend her viewpoint and Castiel was certain she had an erudite explanation of the matter but he kicked her ankle gently under the table. Any further discussion of religion would be severely ill advised. As is, she may have crossed the line to unacceptable in her brother’s eyes already. Heaven forbid she attempt to be a rational, logical person about the subject of God. Because there was no room for anything but unwavering, unquestioning faith in this family.

All conversation died. Even small chit chat and niceties. They ate the rest of the meal silently.

By the time Michael was done with dinner, Balthazar and Uriel both had begged off from the uncomfortable silence with the excuse of homework. When everyone else’s plates were clear, Naomi stood to take the left over food back to the kitchen and pack it. Raphael and Michael were sternly regarding Castiel and Meg.

Meg glanced over to Castiel, and to his brothers.

"So, I uh, guess I should head out?"

Michael stood. “That would be best.”

"Ok. Thanks for dinner, it was really good."

Raphael stood. “You should go.”

The look Meg shot him would be funny if Castiel didn’t feel like he was going to keel over from the sheer intensity of his brother’s hateful disapproval. It wasn’t even aimed at him, it was aimed to someone he was standing next to, and he couldn’t bear the weight of it. Meg didn’t seem bothered, not because they despised her, at least, but she looked to be seething at the dismissal. She stood tall and straight, glaring them down before giving Castiel a hug until one of them coughed and she made her way to the front door.

Castiel followed after her, but Michael stood in his way, closing the door on her as soon as she was out. His brother turned to him, eyes narrowed.

"Clear the table then come see me in my study."

Castiel nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Raphael had disappeared from the dining room when he went back. Naomi had taken care of the food, so he had the dishes. Miraculously, Balthazar appeared out of no where to help him. His brother wasn’t usually one to offer help unless it was required of him.

"Thanks."

"Don’t mention it."

Castiel scraped the plates off into the trash can and passed them to Balthazar who put them in the dishwasher.

"Don’t let them bother you Cassie."

"They were so rude to her."

"I know. But I’m sure she still likes you, who could resist those baby blues, huh?"

Castiel leaned against his brother. Balthazar slung an arm around his shoulders and rubbed his arm.

"Yeah yeah. You shouldn’t keep Michael waiting. He’s probably got one hell of an ultimatum for you."

Castiel nodded and shuffled off quietly, feeling detached from himself a little. He wasn’t used to disagreeing with his family or making decisions for himself and he could almost feel a slow tear starting down the middle of himself inside, it was like a shift was starting to occur and he wanted to worry at the edges and rip it open wide like peeling off a scab. But he knew he was a coward, and would just pick at it.

Knocking at the door to his brother’s study, he was summoned inside. Michael had a room for himself that was lined in bookshelves with a massive wood desk by the large windows overlooking the backyard. He brought work home for himself enough that he was in there frequently, sorting through paperwork and spending his weekends on business instead of much of anything else.

Michael didn’t even bother to look up from the papers he was looking at when Castiel closed the door behind himself with a quiet click. “I don’t want you seeing her anymore Castiel.”

He had expected to be given restrictions or a stern lecture, but the finality of Michael’s statement made his chest clench. “What?”

His brother looked up then, eyes hard. “You’re not to see her, you’re not to contact her, through any medium for any purpose, do I make myself clear?”

"Michael, why, she’s intelligent and independent, she does well at school, she’s holding a part time job, she’s responsible, doesn’t that count for something?"

"She’s a Godless woman Castiel. You can’t trust her, people like her, they have no morals."

"That’s ridiculous!"

"I know better than you Castiel, trust me."

"You don’t know her better than me."

"I know her type."

Castiel was clenching his hands at his side, trying to tamp down his anger. Any attitude would only aggravate Michael and make it worse. ”She doesn’t have a type, she’s just, Meg. You can’t cut me off from friends like this, I’m not doing anything wrong.”

"I’m your guardian, and it’s my job to protect you. I know what is best and you will listen to me Castiel. You need to focus on school, not on girls, and certainly not on girls like her."

"But -"

"I will brook no argument on this. My decision is final."

"Yes, sir."

Castiel looked down at the floor, cowed, and made his retreat quietly.

He had only just made it back to his bedroom, ready to throw himself on his bed and cry like a stereotypical teenager who was pining for long lost love and the cruel injustices of an unfair world when Balthazar was poking his head around the door.

Balthazar smiled weakly and padded in, flopping on the bed with Castiel and shuffling to lean against the wall.

"So where did you find this girl? At the funeral right?"

"At the wake."

"Right, right, at the wake. I like her, she’s a spitfire."

Castiel nodded mutely, sitting upright next to Balthazar but drooping like a wilted plant, his shoulders hunched over, and he didn’t know that something like this could physically hurt so much. He had no idea what it was, or why, but just the thought of not being able to see Meg, or even talk to her anymore; it made him ache.

"I take it the verdict wasn’t too good was it?"

"No."

"Well?"

"Michael wants me to cease all contact immediately."

"Ouch."

"I don’t know what to do Balthazar."

"Let me tell you something Cassie. Do you know why Michael is so good at controlling you?"

"No."

"Because you let him."

"I - "

"Just listen. There’s a lot of gray area between caring about what’s best for a person and caring about what’s the best you can get out of a person for your own benefit. You can’t really trust that Michael is always looking out for what’s good for you. Believe it or not, he doesn’t know everything, and he certainly isn’t able to know everything that you do or do not get up to."

"What are you saying?"

"You don’t have to always listen to Michael, but it is best if you pretend that you’re listening. You have to be smart about it."

"Are you suggesting sneaking around behind his back?”

Balthazar rolled his eyes and patted Castiel indulgently on the back like he was a child. “Well I certainly wouldn’t stage a rebellion to his face, and it’s really not good for you to be so isolated. Do you know you’ve been smiling a lot more? You probably don’t even realize you’re doing it, but it’s, it’s like you’ve come to life more these past few weeks.”

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"What does that mean?"

"It just means….. that you’ve found something to be passionate about. Don’t let Michael take that away from you."

"I’m not sure I know how to successfully sneak around behind his back without getting caught and making the situation worse."

"Well you have to be smart about it. You can’t do it too often. Honestly, I probably have it easier than you. Me being gay, that’s not something Michael is going to face unless he absolutely has to, and I’m going to make sure he doesn’t have to. You have no idea how easy it is to get some strange in the locker rooms after lacrosse practice."

"That’s a little too much information Balthazar."

"Probably. Well. I might not know much about the female anatomy to help you there, but, if you need some advice on sneaking out and lying to Michael, you know I am happy to help."

"Thank you."

“Remember to pick your battles wisely, be safe Cassie.”

Castiel nodded, thankful he had at least one sympathetic ear in the house. Balthazar gave him a charming smile before making his exit. After Balthazar had left, Castiel undressed and completed his nightly ritual. Clean and ready for bed, he listened in the quietude of the house as a few siblings still up shuffled around in their rooms but it was calm.

He shut his bedroom door behind him, crawled under his blankets and pulled them up over his head, hoping it was enough noise insulation if he were to talk quietly that no one would hear him. At least he had a corner room, Uriel across the hall from him and Balthazar next to him. Cocooning himself under the sheets, he dialed Meg.

She picked up on the second ring. “So that went well.”

"I’m sorry."

"What are you sorry for? It’s not like you can control the rest of your family."

Castiel sighed, rolled onto his knees and curled himself up to rest his head on his forearm so he had a small space to breathe. “I’m sorry if they were cruel to you. I’m sorry, because, my brother told me I can’t see you again.”

"You going to actually listen to that dickbag?"

"Um. No, I don’t think I will."

"Then you got nothing to be sorry for man. Jesus, did he really say that like you couldn’t see me just because I’m a different religion? Or was it something else?"

"He called you a Godless woman."

Meg’s laughter on the other end of the line was loud and he knew she was holding the phone away from her mouth so he gave her a moment.

"Oh my god that is hilarious."

"He was being very serious about it."

"Yeah I bet he was. He looks like he’s very serious about everything."

"He is."

Castiel could hear rustling on the other end of the line, he wondered if she was in her room too, if she was wearing pajamas, what kind of pajamas she wore.

"So. What do you wanna do now?"

"What do you mean?"

"You going to go full rebel or something, sneak out at night, let me pick you up after school and take you to the make out point, you could start skipping classes and smoking, ooooooh."

"I’m not skipping school. And, I can’t really do anything with you after school. My siblings would know and they would tell Michael. If I deviate from my daily schedule, he’ll know."

"Wow. Does he really fucking… monitor you guys like that?"

"Yes."

"That sucks."

"Yes. But. I was talking to my brother, Balthazar -"

"Oh I liked him."

"He liked you too."

"Oh yeah?"

"He thinks your influence on me is a good thing. I was talking to him about it and he gave me a bit of advice. I might, um, I might try sneaking out at night. If you’d want to see me later."

"Hell yeah man. Tell you what, I got a plan already. You should play it by the books for a few weeks, let things cool down, right, but like I’m probably going to have a small party when I turn eighteen in two weeks. You should definitely come out for that, it’s a classic excuse for sneaking out past your curfew anyway."

Castiel was smiling, hot and stuffy in his little blanket fortress, but Meg already had a plan. She didn’t care if he couldn’t see her after school or hang out like normal kids, she didn’t care if he couldn’t take her out to dinner or do things during the day. Castiel even surmised that the risque behavior he was willing to engage in for her was more to her taste anyway.

"That sounds perfect."

They continued to talk, Castiel in hushed tones, and he kept having to stifle his laughter on the mattress as Meg did her best impressions of his siblings. Even though she’d met them for only a few hours, her stern Michael impression was spot on, and he found himself gossiping about his family to her. When she mustered up a Naomi impression, Castiel had to bite his forearm to keep from laughing too loudly.

Castiel knew that Michael would eventually find out that he was talking to her, he had no doubt that his brother would review his phone records. But that wouldn’t come for some time and hopefully he could figure something out before then. How much could his brother punish him for talking to her on the phone?

With tentative plans for two weeks away, Castiel ended their conversation and pushed the blankets aside for fresh air. He couldn’t sleep. He felt so awake, he felt alive, just at the prospect of defying his brother’s orders and doing something for himself. Castiel wasn’t certain how he was supposed to sneak out of the house quietly, so he wandered around his room and peered out the back window.

He had the corner room, the one that was above the back sunroom that led onto the deck. Maybe, if he could touch down on the roof of the sunroom while still able to reach his window, he could jump onto there. Then, if he was careful, he could probably reach the deck rail from the sunroom room and clamber down that way. Getting up would be a different story. But it might work.

Castiel tried to go to sleep, tossing and turning, before he finally decided to reach into his pajama pants and satisfy his erection. He’d been doing that more and more lately - masturbating. Although he had never believed that it would make him go blind or give him hairy palms, having spent almost every Sunday of his life in church he couldn’t simply erase the dirty wrong feeling of shame that crept through him when he touched himself. Strangely, and perhaps unfortunately, he was starting find himself increasingly aroused when he felt that tingle of guilt. Meg, no doubt, would think it amusing and perhaps find some way to take advantage of it. He decided he should tell her about that.


	4. Lick It

Meg was going to have a party for her birthday in two weeks. She was turning eighteen the Wednesday before that, but would be celebrating on the Friday when her friends could come over. Castiel was determined to figure out how to get there. He always went to bed at ten pm and woke at six am. Every day, without fail. He knew his brother Michael rose earlier than that. Over the next few weeks he staid up late to determine when Michael normally retired and woke up early to find out when he rose. Every morning Michael woke up at five am sharp. His bed time varied between ten and midnight. Castiel was forming his strategy.

Castiel called Meg, talking to her only every few days instead of daily, quiet and curled under the blankets in his room. He told her that he wouldn’t be able to come over until late, and asked if she might be able to pick him up. Meg said she could probably drive him, but would definitely be able get a ride for him out of either her brother, her father, Dean, or another friend of his that was supposed to be there, Benny.

She knew he would be sneaking out, and sounded rather pleased with herself to have sparked that bit of rebellion in him. Their conversations were kept short, brief snippets of their days shared and things they knew the other would find amusing. Castiel did his best to be even more upstanding than usual, doing extra chores and helping his younger siblings without being asked. He was sleeping less staying up late to talk to Meg and plan his escape, but he kept his grades up. On the Wednesday of Meg’s birthday, he called her late when everyone was asleep, curled under thick blankets with his head stuffed under a pillow, sweating for how hot it was but eager to see Meg in a few days.

“Cas?”

“Hello Meg.”

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Good. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks. Are you still coming Friday?”

“I will try.”

“Cool.”

“I um. I thought I might tell you something that I think you would appreciate.”

“Oh yeah? Is it something dirty?”

“It is.”

“Really? Do share with the class.”

“When I talk to you, I find myself having inappropriate urges. I like the sound of your voice.”

“Oh yeah? You know, if you could get dirty talk down, you’d be great for phone sex with the voice you got.”

“You enjoy listening to me talk?”

“I do. Matter of fact, I got my hand down my panties right now.”

Castiel may have been humping softly against his mattress. Now that he had started this - oh gosh did he really just initiate phone sex - he wasn’t certain what to do.

“I haven’t undressed yet.”

“You wearing your stuffy button down and slacks?”

“No. I have pajama pants on, and a t-shirt.”

“Are you in your bedroom?”

“Yes.”

“Take your clothes off.”

“All of them?”

“Everything.”

Castiel quietly pushed up out of his blanket fortress and stripped quickly, pulling the sheets back over himself, lazily rolling his hips against the soft cotton.

“What should I do now?”

“Lay belly down on your bed and put your pillow under your hips.”

Castiel pushed the pillow down between himself and the bed, braced on his forearms to hold the phone to his ear, driving his cock against the soft yielding of the pillow, and he would not have thought to do something so inappropriate with his pillow but it was nice.

He didn’t realize he was panting into his phone.

“Good boy. I’ve got my shirt off, my bra too. I like to pinch my nipples, you should bite them when we get together Friday. I like a little pain.”

Castiel whimpered, he couldn’t find the words to say. Meg’s voice was lower, drawn out, breathy. He could see the pretty flush on her cheeks, her slender fingers wrapped around his cock, smoke curling out of her lips.

“Listen to you. Needy little thing. I think about you when I touch myself too, when I fuck myself on my fingers, I think about your mouth on me….”

Meg was gasping on the other end of the line, tight high strung whine and chocked off moan. Castiel bit his lip and rutted against his pillow listening to her until he shuddered through his orgasm and collapsed boneless on his bed, his pillow despoiled.

“Meg.”

“Fuck Cas. We should do this more often.”

“I agree.”

“I’m sure we can find even more fun stuff to do on Friday.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Night Cas.”

“Goodnight.”

Castiel groaned when he peeled himself off his wet pillow. Stripping off the cover, he found that he had soaked through to it. He wasn’t certain how best to clean semen out of a pillow. Settling for wiping it off and wrapping it in a blanket rather than risk making noise getting another pillow cover from the cupboard in the hallway, Castiel fell asleep with a smile on his face. The sound of Meg’s voice played prominently in his ‘hands on’ shower time the next day.

The night of his great escape, Castiel tried - painfully and awkwardly - to be as inconspicuous and normal as possible. Of course, attempting to be inconspicuous often seemed to make one more conspicuous, and the more he over analyzed the situation the twitchier he got. During a nervous dinner he sat through with the full knowledge that his impending rebellion was pre-meditated and somehow that made it worse, Castiel felt himself winding up with tension tighter and tighter. He made himself literally sick to his stomach, picking at his food and avoiding Michael’s gaze.

It was entirely in his head, and he knew that well, but Castiel couldn’t shake the feeling that Michael could see straight through him and he would be found out before he could even get a leg out of his bedroom window. Raphael commented that he seemed ill, and Castiel seized that convenient excuse to state that yes, he was feeling a bit under the weather. He excused himself early from dinner to study in his room, claiming a headache and nausea.

Castiel had never felt nervous like this before in his life. Not to this extreme, with trembling hands and restless legs and paranoia. Tests and school work didn’t make him nervous. He was occasionally anxious during normal social interaction, but he kept that to a minimum and learned to adapt to it. He was usually nervous around Meg, but that was accompanied with a sense of anticipation, elation, happiness, and therefore those nerves were bearable. This. This was pure dread.

Every scenario of what could go wrong and how he could get caught played on loop while he absent-mindedly attempted to complete homework. The worst thing, was the uncertainty of what Michael would do to him if he were caught. Castiel had a few ideas. He wondered if Michael would step into their father’s shoes in every aspect. Worse though, than the thought of being found out, and the thought of punishment on being found out, was the thought of not being able to see Meg after all of that.

The clock ticked slowly on and he listened to his siblings shutting themselves away for the night. Every now and then he peered down the hall to see who had their door shut and who was still up and about. Castiel heard the low timbre of Michael’s voice down the hallway, listened to someone shuffling around in the bathroom and the sound of running water. He strained his ears and listened for every creak and sigh of their house and it’s occupants. He listened until everything was stone silent and he continued to listen. By the time eleven thirty rolled around the house had been an undisturbed quiet for a while.

Castiel found a dark grey sweatshirt and pulled it on over his white button down. He had foregone the tie in an attempt at casual, but still wore his usual slacks and shoes. Although he had a few pairs of sweat pants for working out, he didn’t actually have any jeans. Patting his pockets to make sure his wallet and phone where there, he opened his window and stared out contemplating this last step in a bid for claiming his own freedom, his own identity for himself.

Perhaps he was being melodramatic. But it was a large step for Castiel - massive, unfathomable, and frightening - to disobey his family. Even if he were doing so in secret. Taking a deep breath, he swung his legs out of the window and perched on the sill, hopping down to the gentle slope of the sun room’s roof. It wasn’t too far down. Shutting his window most of the way except for a crack, he padded quietly down to where the deck railing was below the roof. Crouching, he contemplated how best to get down. Settling on turning around and dangling his legs off, slowly creeping off the roof until he felt the railing under his toes as he clung to the rough asphalt, Castiel pushed himself off when he felt the railing beneath him. It went well for a second until he tried to turn and lost his balance, toppling over into the rose bushes beneath the deck.

In an ungraceful, and painful, landing he rolled out of the rose bushes and stood. His sweater didn’t seem worse for the wear at least. There was a scratch on the back of his hand, and he ran his fingers over his face feeling for any scratches that Michael would notice but it felt all right. His shoulder throbbed from the impact, but everything was in order.

Ready to flee through the yard, Castiel paused. It was Meg’s birthday and he didn’t have anything for her. He didn’t know what she’d like, or how to get it. Although she said she’d just be happy to see him, he didn’t want to show up empty handed. Snapping a rose off the bush, Castiel picked off the thorns and hoped it wasn’t too sentimental for Meg’s taste.

He hurried through the back yard and hopped over the low white picket fence to make his way through the neighbor’s yard instead of circling to the front of his house. Once he had made it to the street he found an intersection several blocks away and texted Meg his location. She responded that her father would be picking him up, that he drove a black honda civic, and should be there in about twenty minutes.

Castiel waited on the street corner, his nerves already alleviated with the knowledge that he had made his escape without being caught, so that was at least half the battle. All he had to do was get back in without being caught. He was standing there, on a street corner in the middle of suburbia waiting to be picked up, on his way to his girlfriend’s party, feeling defiant and proud of himself for it.

After a jittery stretch of time spent over analyzing the shadows and listening intently to a cat stalking across the street, a black honda civic stopped in front of him and the door opened, Azazel sitting there with a neutral expression on his face. Castiel sat and buckled himself in, closing the door and folding his hands over the rose in his lap.

"Um. Thank you for the ride."

"Sure. But I want you to tell me something. Now, of course Meg already gave me an excuse but I figure it’s either stretching the truth or just an outright lie. So. Why exactly am I picking you up at a crossroads at midnight?"

Castiel sighed and tried to think of a clever answer fast, but he really wasn’t overly fond of lying and was not very practiced in it.

"Do you have your brother’s approval to come over?"

Castiel watched the street lights passing. “No sir.”

"I can appreciate the honesty."

Castiel looked over to Azazel, and really, he looked more amused than upset and Castiel wasn’t certain what to think of Meg’s father.

"I want to know, why doesn’t your brother want you to see my daughter?"

"He thinks she’s a bad influence."

Azazel laughed. Castiel was slightly unnerved.

"Oh. She can be a bad influence. But she’s a good girl, just a little different."

Castiel nodded.

"I want you to know something Castiel. If you’re messing around with her heart, if you just want to have a little fun, or experiment a little, I will not accept that."

"No disrespect, but is this the ‘If you hurt my daughter I’ll hurt you’ speech?"

"It’s not a speech kid."

They stopped at a light and Azazel looked over at him, the street light striping across the lower half of his face but his eyes almost looked like they were glowing.

"It’s a promise."

Castiel tried to swallow, nodding, very aware of his breathing.

"Now, I’m sure if you ever do anything to hurt her, she can and will kick your ass faster than I could ever get to you. But I will come after you too. You’ve got to understand, that’s my baby girl."

"Yes sir.”

The rest of the drive was mostly silent, with a few generic questions regarding his school work and extra curricular activities. Castiel still felt a vague sense of unease around Azazel, but he respected the man.

When they made it back to the house, Meg was on him the moment they opened the door.

"Thanks for picking him up dad."

"Of course, are you enjoying the party?"

"Yeah.", Meg gave her dad a quick hug before turning to him.

She was wearing a black skirt that went to mid thigh, legs and feet bare, a blank tank top over a lace shirt the length of her arms. Her eyes were lined in black, face rosy cheeked, hair loose over her shoulders. She smiled at Castiel and kissed him on the cheek.

Castiel held his rose out to her as soon as she let go of him.

"I’m sorry I don’t have a present, but, happy birthday Meg."

"It’s all right, you can be my present."

Meg took the rose and smelled it, still smiling, her father hovering nearby. She grabbed his arm and tugged him forward through the grand foyer.

"Come up stairs a minute."

Castiel followed, and Azazel was watching them.

"I’ll be listening outside your bedroom if you close the door Meg."

Meg carried on, tugging Castiel up the wide staircase. In one of the large rooms for services to the right he saw a group of her friends, spotting Dean, Sam and Ruby there as well as several others, and her brother Tom. Being dragged upstairs, Castiel followed as he was led to Meg’s room, the door shut behind them.

Everything was in purples and blacks, a bed against one wall with crumpled sheets and pillows strewn haphazardly across it. There was a dresser with a mirror on the other wall draped with scarves and strewn with jewelry, a shelf next to it bearing books and trinkets. It was fairly neat, dirty clothes heaped in one corner, a backpack and homework on a desk with school supplies. Meg tied a ribbon around the stem of her rose and dangled it off the corner of a mirror.

“Are you going to put that in water?”

“No. I’m drying it, that way it’ll last longer.”

Castiel stood awkwardly in the middle room, trying not to appear too curious but looking around. Then Meg was grabbing his wrist and tugging him towards the bed. She pushed him onto the bed, and Castiel was certain she wasn’t planning anything with her father in the house but then she was straddling his lap.

He looked up at her, placing his hands tentatively on her waist. Meg was grinning at him, holding a thin black pencil in front of his face.

"So, I was thinking we could play dress up?"

"What does that entail?"

"I bet you’ll look real swell with a little make-up."

"All right."

He thought that Meg looked pretty with how she styled her make up, he had no qualms if she thought he’d look nice in it too. Then she was holding the pencil in front of his face.

"Is it safe to have something pointy like that near my eye?"

Meg laughed and held his face in one hand with the pencil in the other, tilting his head up, her fingers stroking across his jaw and cheek before resting near his eye.

"It’s perfectly safe, as long as you sit still. Don’t move."

Castiel sat rigidly, eyes wide open, letting her move his head around where she wanted, one of her fingers positioning or holding an eye while she drew on him. It stung a little, but it wasn’t painful. She had her tongue poked out between her lips, a look of absolute concentration on her face. One eye, then the other, and she was sitting back on his lap looking very satisfied. He couldn’t help that he had an erection with her warm weight sitting on him. And of course she noticed. Meg slid closer to him, circling her hips against him, giving him a slow steady grind before kissing his forehead and standing back up. She moved over to the closet, humming something, rifling through her clothes.

Taking a few deep breaths, Castiel stayed on the bed where she had put him. Meg stepped back in front of him holding a few articles of clothes.

"You’ll definitely have to wear something else to match the make up."

"Of course."

"I was thinking, these?"

"A skirt?"

"It’s not a skirt, it’s a kilt. Not that there’s anything wrong with guys wearing skirts, but I figured I’d ease you into this."

"Ease me into what?"

There was something devious in her smile, something hiding behind her teeth. It felt playful. Castiel appreciated the attention. He stood and removed his sweater, unbuttoned his shirt, unbuckled his pants. Standing in the middle of her room in his plain white boxers, he blushed at how Meg studied him. Then she was handing him her clothes.

The shirt was tight across his shoulders and a little high on his waist, the kilt a tad loose. Meg secured it with a safety pin pinching the waist smaller. She smoothed the shirt down and turned him around this way and that. She looked highly amused and pleased with her handiwork. Running her fingers through his hair, she spiked it up until she was satisfied.

Castiel felt odd in different clothes. There was some sort of logo on the shirt, a skull and a word proclaiming the wearer a ‘Misfit’. It was soft and worn. The kilt - really, it was a pleated skirt in his opinion- swirled around his thighs when Meg made him spin, and he had to admit that it was rather comfortable. Breezy. She had him remove his socks and shoes as well.

Her hands were light where they moved over him, brushing down the exposed skin of his arm or just pushing under the hem of the shirt. He wanted to know the steps better, for this casual sort of flirtation, but he stepped forward a little late, shifted a little too far to the right, missed her when he reached for her. Meg didn’t seem to mind, she ended up in the circle of his arms anyway standing on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. She was surprisingly strong when she gripped onto one of his hips and pressed against him, pulling him towards her. Open mouthed kisses along his neck had him simpering and leaning down to catch her lips against his.

There was a cough on the other side of the door.

"I’m hearing kissing noises in there."

Meg stepped away from him and rolled her eyes.

"Dad!"

"Meg!"

"We’ll be out in a minute!"

She rifled through the contents on her dresser before coming back with a small round container of something shiny that she dipped a finger in, lifting it to his lips and smearing it across them.

"Just a little gloss. Because you look good with cocktease written on your lips."

She was grinning lewdly at him

"And how is that a good thing, when you don’t have a cock?"

Meg’s eyes widened, she pushed lightly against his chest and winked. Then she was opening the door and Azazel was staring at Cas with narrowed eyes before he rolled them and sighed. Castiel couldn’t decide if it was a look of pity or scorn. Perhaps weary resignation.

When Meg took him back downstairs where everyone else was, they didn’t even seem to notice his wardrobe change. Maybe it was a common occurrence. Castiel said hello to Sam, Dean and Ruby before Meg introduced him to her other friends. Abby and Benny were both nineteen, they had been one year ahead of Meg, like Dean, and were graduated now. Neither of them went to college. Benny was working as a line chef downtown, he and Dean were dating. Abby had her own apartment and was working as a stripper - correction, exotic dancer. Meg introduced Castiel to Tom as well, seeing they had only met in passing during the services held for his father.

There was pizza, chips, cookies, cake, pop, all manner of junk food that Castiel hardly ever indulged in. Most of the food was almost gone, scraps left, and Castiel figured the party had probably been going for some time. He was rather late, but he was glad he made it. He had taken a slice of pizza, a cookie and a handful of chips for himself. Meg heaped more food on his plate and gave him a drink. They were all sitting around on the chairs Castiel recognized from his father’s funeral service, gathered into a circle. The pop tasted strange. It settled warm in his belly and by the time he finished he felt loose limbed and a little disoriented.

"Meg, can pop go rancid?"

"Huh?"

"It tasted a little off. I feel strange."

She looked at him with her soft eyes and red cheeks, leaning close to him.

"You’ve never had alcohol have you?"

"No."

"Someone spiked it. My guess is Tom or Dean. May have been Abby."

"Oh."

"You feel all right, yeah?"

"I feel. I _feel_.”

"Yeah. That’s the point."

"Your skin is very soft Meg."

He was petting her thigh just above the knee. Meg didn’t stop him. Most of the time, Castiel felt a calm detachment to the world that he never paid much mind to because it was his baseline. With Meg, when he touched her, he felt like he really touched her, like she was under his skin and in his head. She put her hand over his, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

"You’re pretty touchy touchy when you’ve had a little sauce, huh?"

"I’ve never understood why people call it sauce. Sauce is meant to be put on things, it’s a condiment."

"Well, a lot of times people mix it with things."

"That’s a good point. It’s an older moniker isn’t it?"

"I don’t really know where it comes from."

Meg shrugged and turned to talk to Abby who sat down next to her. Everyone was talking to everyone else at the same time. Castiel stayed close to Meg’s side and her bubble of conversation, mostly listening. There was music playing loud enough to be distracting and quiet enough to still talk over, something similar to what she played in her car but not quite as angry. Dean tended to tap his fingers along to the music, or twitch his foot. He never staid still. Sometimes he pretended to play drums on Benny’s shoulder. Most of the time Ruby and Sam were in each other’s space sharing frequent kisses and completely absorbed in one another. Meg spent a lot of her time between Castiel and Abby. Castiel had the impression that Abby had been a good friend in high school she didn’t get to see as much as she might like now.

Tom excused himself around one a.m., having work the next morning, and he said goodnight to Meg with an affectionate hug. Castiel was glad she got along well with her family. Meg usually spoke fondly of them over the phone, of course griping about some slight or another occasionally, but it never crossed from irritation to anger. Shortly after Tom had gone upstairs, Azazel came in. Castiel was close enough to hear his conversation with Meg when she said goodnight. He said something that Castiel would need to think about later.

_You don’t have to be good, but be safe._

At one point Ruby suggested a game of ‘truth or dare’. Castiel didn’t think people actually played that in real life. Wasn’t it supposed to be some cliche in the movies or tv shows - of which Castiel watched little - that normal high school kids did. Oh. He was a high school kid. Maybe he was normal. Oddly enough, sitting there in a skirt - kilt - slightly tipsy, trying to keep up with conversation with the motley group of boisterous friends, he did feel genuinely normal. He felt comfortable.

Most of the dares dished out consisted of eating gross things and most of the truths consisted of coaxing salacious gossip from one another. Apparently Ruby had wanted to use this is a ploy to get more dirt on Castiel, but she seemed disappointed that he didn’t have much to tell. He had picked truth the first few times around, nervous what they might ask of him.

After watching enough condiment jars brought from the kitchen mixed into drinks and chugged, one lap dance from Abby to Sam - Ruby’s dare for which she watched him blush furiously while she cackled - Meg choking on a spoon of cinnamon, Dean almost dislocating a shoulder falling off the table he was ‘stripping’ on, Benny running out the front porch to vomit after eating a handful of some kind of peppers, Castiel finally mustered his courage and accepted a dare from Meg. Because she wouldn’t give him anything too bad, right?

"I dare you to touch a corpse."

Castiel squinted at her.

"What?"

"I dare you to touch a corpse. In the basement. We’ve got a fresh one."

"Are we allowed down there?"

Everyone was ‘oooooo’ ‘ing. Castiel had the feeling this was some sort of initiation. He stood confidently and stared Meg down.

"All right."

They all tip toed quietly through the large old house, Meg sneaking off somewhere to procure keys before she led them down a flight of stairs to the basement. It was cool, and dark, even with the overhead light there was a distinct eerie atmosphere. Castiel knew it was all his imagination, but he still felt a shiver creep down his spine when he huddled in the group - everyone quiet for the first time that night. There was a corridor at the bottom of the steps that led to several doorways, one of which Meg opened into a room with bright fluorescent lights and white tiles along the floor and half way up the walls. There were two stainless steel tables in the middle, rows of counter-tops and cabinets along a wall, shelves of supplies and instruments he couldn’t even name.

Meg ushered him across the room where a heavy duty metal door loomed. She turned another lock and opened it, cold air whooshing into the room, the rest of the group starting to titter in hushed anticipation. Meg pulled him by the wrist into the chilled room, his bare feet cold on the floor, goose bumps up his arms. The others crowded behind them.

There was a cadaver completely covered by a white blanket on one of the tables, and when Meg pulled the sheet down neatly, Castiel saw an old lady with short curled gray hair and paper white skin wrinkled and marked with age spots. Any trace of anxiousness was overwhelmed by a sudden intense curiosity. This body was what was left of a lifetime, how many miles had she walked, how much of the world had she seen, what vast accumulation of knowledge was gone with her, what had she left behind. There was a complexity to life, infinite possibilities of interactions and choices, and it was awe inspiring to think about.

He stood next to her, and touched her cheek, feeling very calm and very small. How curious that the mystery of a stranger’s life could inspire more reverence in him than his father’s death had.

It was decidedly silent. Castiel shook his head once and took his hand away. They were looking at him, clearly this was not the reaction they were aiming for. Meg had a look on her face, brows just barely creased, head tilted a little to the side. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. The tension was suddenly broken when Dean hollered a much cruder command, “I dare you to lick it!”

Castiel frowned. “She’s not an ‘it’.”

Sam shoved Dean with an ‘Ew gross’.

Ruby was cackling. She did that a lot.

Meg tilted her head at him. “Go on.”

Castiel scowled at her, the traitor. But he bent at the waist and briefly, barely, stuck his tongue out and contacted the skin on her forehead before jerking up. Everyone was howling and making faces, accompanied with ‘eeews’, and ‘I can’t believe you just did that’. Meg grinned, pulling him forward and licking into his mouth with a messy kiss, making everyone else screech even louder.

It seemed he had passed their test. They pulled the sheet up, turned out the lights, locked the doors behind them and stood around giggling in the front room again.

Castiel was, unfortunately, keeping an eye on time. He should be back home by four at the latest, to make sure he could sneak in quietly while people were still asleep, but he didn’t want to leave any earlier than he had to. Meg told him that she would give him a ride back, and around three am she was telling him to say his goodbyes. Everyone else decided to disband too, Dean and Sam going together, Benny had his own car, Abby and Ruby were staying to sleep over.

Castiel crept up to Meg’s room to change back into his normal clothes. He went to the bathroom to wash off the make up, seeing himself in the mirror for the first time that night. Studying his makeup, Castiel was surprised at how much it did make his eyes appear larger and more intensely blue. It was flattering. He wanted to ask Meg to teach him how to put it on. Perhaps another night. For now, he scrubbed it off and attempted to flatten his hair down before shuffling back to head out with Meg.

They pulled away from the funeral home in her hearse, driving down the winding country road toward the city. When they came up to the church where the graveyard was, Meg pulled into the church’s dirt parking lot and turned the car off.

"So we still got a little time before you have to be back yeah?"

It was barely past three, and it would take about twenty minutes to get home.

"Yes. Were you thinking of something?"

Castiel smiled, sharing in this small secret knowledge because he knew what she wanted this time. He knew why she had stopped the car. And he wanted too.

"Well I figure you owe me a little something for my birthday."

"I thought letting you dress me up was supposed to be your present."

"But you liked that."

"Yes. And I think I’ll like anything else you ask of me. So that’s a moot point."

Meg shoved playfully at his arm as she leaned across the seat and kissed him, licking against his lips without letting him lick into her, teasing, pressing forward and pulling back.

He asked, “What would you like from me?”

"What do you want to give?"

Castiel lifted an arm to push his fingers through her soft hair, draping it over her shoulder. It was night dark but the moon was almost full. In the church parking lot there were no lights on, no street lights lined the road. He could barely see her, the suggestion of her face softened in the moonlight, but when she moved the dark shape of her lips curved and the whites of her eyes shifted.

"I would like…. may I, perform cunnilingus on you?"

Meg laughed, brushing her nose against the shell of his ear, one hand on his thigh.

"Are you asking if you can eat me out Cas?"

"Yes."

"You wanna lick my pussy?"

He could feel his face flush, although he was not as good at the ‘dirty talk’ as Meg was, he enjoyed listening to her. He felt that his naivety in the matter served as amusement to her as well.

"Please."

Castiel brushed his hand down her arm, the texture of the lace smooth beneath his fingers, and pushed under her shirt at the waistline. Caressing the skin of her stomach across the curve of her waist and brushing up the dip of her spine, Castiel pressed forward more assuredly and kissed her. He tilted his head to get closer like he was learning to, pressing his lips to hers. She let him in, gasping when he dragged his blunt nails harder down her back.

"Let’s take this to the back."

Meg pulled away, slipping out of the car before he could reach for her, but Castiel was following. He was hard already and as much as he wanted her to touch him, Castiel wanted this to be about her, he wanted to please her, to give her whatever she wanted. And as much as he could rationalize that it was about giving her something to make her birthday special, really, he felt a tight strung, deep yearning to be on the receiving end of her commands.

When he crawled after her into the back of the hearse, there was an overhead light and several lights along the side that illuminated the back with a low, soft yellow. It faded when the door was closed.

"Can you turn the lights on, so that they stay on?"

Meg moved around in the dark knowing where everything was. The lights flicked back on and she was smiling at him, lips stretched wide up her cheeks and hungry.

"You like to watch?"

"I do. I like to see you. May I undress you?"

Meg scooted to him on her knees, where he was sitting cross legged. If he hunched a little he could almost sit up in the back. Meg sat in front of him, draping her legs over his lap and scooting close, placing his hands on her waist. He could see up her skirt where it slid along her thighs and bunched at her waist. She was wearing plain black panties but there was a little lace along the bottom.

"Go right ahead."

Lifting her tank top off first, he ran his hands over the lace fabric of the long sleeved shirt underneath. Castiel had never given much consideration to clothes before. He wore what was provided him. He went to school where everyone wore uniforms. He couldn’t remember if he had ever touched lace before, but he could understand why it was meant to be a seductive garment. The pattern looked graceful over her pale skin, fitted snug along her curves, appearing delicate and feminine. He enjoyed pulling the shirt slowly up, while she ducked her head through it and he let it gather down her arms, fingers brushing against her skin before setting it aside.

Her chest was moving with deep breaths, cleavage rising and falling, hypnotic, plain black bra fringed in lace. He’d never seen her completely, wholly bare before. Castiel froze, uncertain. Meg pulled his legs straight and crawled onto his lap, her neck bumping against the roof of the car and head bent forward, hair tumbling loose over her shoulders. She grasped his hands and moved them up along her hips.

"Here, just follow me."

Castiel hovered his hands over hers, as she reached behind herself, fingers grasping the back of her bra and he felt the way they pushed the little clasps towards each other before they popped free. Meg tossed her bra aside. Castiel wasn’t certain if her breasts were small or large or somewhere in between, he didn’t know if they would be considered perky or heavy. But he thought she was beautiful. All of her was, and when she lay on her back in front of him, legs tangled up, he was awed.

Kneeling between her legs and holding himself above her, Castiel dipped to press a kiss to her chest, kissing a line from the valley between her breasts down and along the bottom and up the side. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, pressing his lips lightly to the warm skin. Meg curled her fingers through his hair, sighed and arched up against him.

"Open your mouth."

Castiel glanced up at her, uncertain, but he opened her mouth. Meg traced a finger along his lower lip. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair wild around her head. She pulled him back down to her chest.

"Lick."

Slowly, he laved his tongue against her skin, and he wasn’t certain what a girl’s body was supposed to taste like, but there wasn’t much of a taste at all. Mostly there was warmth and the soft texture of smooth skin. He licked the arch where her breast dipped down and licked underneath, licked along the hard line of her ribs as she shifted beneath him and down the quivering plane of her belly. Kissing and licking his way back up, he dared to lave his tongue along the pert bud of a pink nipple, looking so inviting. He watched Meg while he did this, watched the way she bit her lower lip and how her brow drew together.

"Suck."

Castiel closed his lips around her nipple and sucked gently. It almost seemed like a strange thing to do, although he found breasts aesthetically appealing, their biological purpose was to produce milk for babies. He thought it might seem infantilizing to do this, but it wasn’t. Not even close.

"Try mixing it up. Flick your tongue around - yeah, yeah like that. And bite just a little -ah - fuck, yes."

Castiel experimented, listening to her suggestions, circling his tongue around the bud and rolling it between his teeth, widening his jaw and drawing her breast into his mouth. She whimpered and pulled at his hair, pushing her hips up and rocking against him where he knelt between her legs.

"Cas, take off your shirt Cas."

He could do that. You would think for as often as he had taken off his own shirts it would be easy, but his fingers were trembling when he bumbled his way down the line of buttons and shrugged out of the shirt. Meg was unzipping her skirt and pushing it down. Castiel leaned back and pulled the fabric down while she lifted her legs and twisted out of it. Laying down low between her legs, folded up in the small space in the back of her hearse, the feel of her bare skin on his was a revelation.

Chest pressed to her belly, smooth legs rubbing along his sides, hands in his hair, his body tingled with the intimate contact where they touched. He could feel the breath in her, feel the shift of her muscle, feel the hardness of bone through skin and the softness of her belly. He kissed her body again, lavished her other breast with as much attention as was given the first. It was fascinating how her body responded to him, she wouldn’t stay still, legs sliding along his sides, hands pushing and digging and grasping, small gasps and moans when he did something she liked.

"You want to, ah, take this a little lower?"

Castiel pushed up on one hand braced on the floor, looking at her, wicked smile on her face. He kissed her lips, sucking on the plush swell of her lower lip before trailing kisses down her body. She pushed herself up along the floor till she was against the partition, and still he couldn’t quite lay in front of her. On his stomach, legs bent at the knee and parted to the sides, he could dip between her legs. Pulling her panties off in this position proved slightly challenging, but she wiggled and laughed while lifting up her hips.

Spreading her legs with his hands on her thighs, he looked at her. Her legs were shaved smooth but the hair around her sex was curled and thick. Castiel brushed a hand from her navel to the top where her lips parted. It was soft, and warm. He could feel the heat radiating off her, could smell her with his face between her thighs and it was something heady and mysterious. Something complex he couldn’t name but his eyes shut as he inhaled, fingers curling through her hair, his cock twitching pressed between his body and the floor still in his slacks.

"It’s so lovely."

"You think so?"

"Oh yes."

"You’re strange."

"Why?"

"Most guys, as much as they want to stick their dick in there they don’t want anything else to do with it."

"That’s odd."

"Yeah."

Castiel barely traced his fingers down between her legs, hovering over the soft pink skin hidden there.

"What do I do?"

Meg reached down, with sure easy movement, pressing two fingers against the outer lips and pulling them apart, revealing herself to him, all intricate folds like flower petals and he understood the metaphor now. Castiel smiled at this small new knowledge.

"You can just touch, or you can, you could do what you want with your mouth."

Meg seemed somehow quieter, more subdued than the first time she took him out on the roof and told him exactly what to do. Her breath was audible, hitched, and she was watching him with dilated eyes.

Castiel ran the pad of his thumb along the plump pink skin. Dropping his head forward he licked a swath up the middle, and again, hearing Meg whimper.

"Harder."

Castiel licked her, flat tongued, pressing firmly and dragging slow. Meg scratched her nails through his hair and rolled her hips up against him.

"C’mon, like with my nipples, suck a little, mix it up."

Castiel stared, he wasn’t certain what part he was supposed to suck on.

"Here, pay the most attention to the clit, go other places, but, focus on here."

Meg circled a finger around a small nub at the apex of her vulva, pulling back skin and scraping her nail over a little red button of skin. Castiel kissed her there, pressing his tongue down and pulling it between his teeth gently. He liked the way she tasted, a sharp tang that was almost bitter, it was something raw and hot and tantalizing.

"Good, yeah, a little harder, ah, ah, right there fuckfuck, yeah, that’s good, that’s, shit no don’t do that, ease up, ok, ok yeah, come on."

Castiel found himself grinding his hips down against the floor, shifting to pull his cock up towards his belly, body tense from the escalating pleasure and he felt like he was hanging on the cusp of it, too focused on Meg to bother with himself but his hips kept twitching. Before he knew it he was shuddering through an orgasm, face pressed between her legs, come wet and sticky in his pants.

He didn’t stop, kept lapping at her skin, fingers anchored into the toned flesh of her thighs, till Meg was tugging at one of his hands.

"Hey, do you think you could finger me while you do that?"

Slipping both arms down and laying one under her thigh to brace on, Meg widening her legs till her knees bumped against the sides of the hearse. Castiel flicked his tongue over her clit while he pressed two fingers inside her. She was even wetter than before, dripping down his fingers, hot slick clench of muscle around him and he curled them up like she had showed him, using his tongue along every other part of her vulva while he slid his fingers in an easy rhythm, trying to find some coordination between his tongue and his fingers.

Meg lifted her hips up off the floor, grinding against him, fingers twisted up in his hair. She was chanting a litany of praise and encouragement, moaning when he found the right angle, the right pace, when he could get his fingers to work with his tongue building her into a frenzy. She screamed when she came, and this time he didn’t stop when he felt the tight pulsing clench of her muscles around his fingers, he kept deep pressing up into her and rolling her clit on his tongue.

She was rigid and still for a moment until collapsing back down, tugging him gently away, babbling and panting. Castiel licked his lips, kissed her thighs, she seemed to like when he kissed her everywhere above the waist, he hoped she would like if he pressed his lips to her skin here. Meg smiled at him, laughing breathlessly.

"You’re a fucking natural."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Fucking, yes. Oh god."

Castiel stroked his hands up her thighs and over the plush curves of her hips, cupping her breasts and sliding up her body till he could press a kiss to her lips. Meg pulled him down and sucked his tongue into her mouth, devouring him, arms wrapped around his shoulders.

She pulled back, skin glistening with perspiration and her hair tangled. Ghosting her hands down his chest, she leaned back, unbuckling his pants.

"Let me take care of you now."

"Oh. I - I already…."

Meg slid a hand between his boxers and pants, wet with come.

"You came in your pants?"

"Yes."

She still groped him, soft, through his boxers.

"Is that all right?"

"Oh trust me, if you can get off just eating me out, I have no problems with that."

Castiel ran his fingers through her hair, pulling apart a few knots.

"We should probably get you back though, yeah?"

"Yes. Definitely."

"Do you want something to, clean up or, man I don’t know, it’s just all over your pants."

"It’s fine, I’ll change when I get home."

Kneeling up, finding his shirt to pull on again, Meg pulled her tank on without the bra and pulled her skirt on over her head as well. Castiel was closest to the door, so he made his ungraceful exit into the chilly night air. Meg stepped out, pulling her clothes down. Castiel reached for her waist, pressing himself against her and tilting his head down to kiss her. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of having the leisure to press kisses to her lips, to her cheeks, however many he wanted.

Meg sighed and tipped up on her toes, wrapping an arm around his neck.

"Come on, I don’t want you getting back too late and getting yourself in trouble."

Castiel nodded, pulling away and making his way around to the passenger side. When Meg buckled her seat belt and turned the car on, she leaned across the seat to kiss him again.

"Thanks for coming out Cas, I had a really great birthday."

"I’m glad you did. I had a good night as well.”

Meg smoked a clove cigarette in the car while she drove him home, window rolled down just a crack. He didn’t mind the smoke, he liked for it to linger on his shirt. Castiel would stash his shirt underneath his pillow, smelling like her, and he would lay his face against it under the sheets while he talked to her on the phone.

Meg dropped him off several blocks from his house. It was just past four by the time they had gotten there. Castiel snuck through the yard of the neighbor behind their house, hopping over the white picket fence and crawling up on the deck rail to heave himself onto the roof of the sunroom. It was decidedly more difficult going up. He pulled his legs up to hook on the edge and heave himself over. The window to his room was at least only at chest height, and he quietly pulled himself up and back into his room.

Not wanting to risk being heard going to the bathroom, he undressed and tried wiping himself down spitting on a tissue. That did not go well. With fuzzy scraps of tissue stuck in his pubes Castiel gave up and pulled on pajama pants. He could shower in the morning, which was only a few hours away. Meg was worth losing sleep over.


	5. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for depression and child abuse in this chapter.

Castiel woke the next morning at the same time he always woke up, six am. It was just two hours of sleep from when he had snuck back inside at four am. Considering it was the weekend, it was difficult to resist the urge to roll over and sleep in. But he never slept in. No one in the house did but Balthazar. He wiped himself down with a wet towel in the bathroom, scrubbing at the smudges under his eyes when he thought it was lingering eye liner before discovering the skin was just dark from lack of sleep. The shower was saved for after his morning workout, like every morning.

Half an hour on the treadmill, at a more sluggish pace than usual, and his routine of calisthenics. Then he could indulge in a hot shower, feeling like he was going to fall asleep on his feet. Breakfast at seven thirty. Sitting with a bowl of oatmeal at the kitchen island, only Uriel shuffled around the kitchen at the same time as him. Michael, Raphael, Naomi, Rachel and Hester were already dressed and busy. Hanna and Hael were eating cereal in the living room watching cartoons. Balthazar was asleep. At least Uriel didn’t pester him, but carried his breakfast off to somewhere else leaving Castiel alone with his thoughts.

As exhausted as he was having basically taken a nap instead of the proper recommended eight hours of sleep, Castiel was still high strung and nervous. He remained tense through the whole day, waiting for Michael to call him in to the study or for someone to call him out for the scratch on his hand. Would they make the connection between that, the rose bush that was probably damaged, and the fact that his bedroom was over the sunroom. Or maybe he was being paranoid. It was surely a little of both. His family was good at making leaps of logic, and he was definitely paranoid.

Over the next few days, the shock of not only having snuck out at night but having not been caught doing so gradually wore off. He kept his ears open and his eyes peeled for any sign that any of his siblings had been aware of his nocturnal transgression. But his life trudged on as it always had. School work, family dinner, homework. Admittedly, school had been slightly more exciting lately - not necessarily a good thing - as the rumors surrounding his kiss with the strange girl driving in the hearse in the parking lot circulated. He kept his head down and let it roll off his shoulders, long practiced in dealing with being ostracized.

Still trying to keep a low profile and not raise Michael’s suspicions, Castiel only called Meg every few nights of the week. Curled under his blankets whispering into the phone, they spent hours talking about anything and everything to fill the time, to keep each other on the line. He figured it was best not to sneak out every week. If there were some sort of manual for ‘teenage rebellion’, Castiel would study it. He did find himself secretively flipping through a few teen magazines in the check out lines at the grocery store, but it all seemed too contrite and shallow. It wasn’t really helpful at all. The spontaneity of his current plan - make it up as you go - was tiresome. He worried too much. Heard strange noises. Felt anxious around Michael. But it was worth it.

Several weeks after Meg’s party, she coaxed him out again on a Friday for a drive in movie. Castiel didn’t even know those places still existed, but there was one outside of town that played old horror movies all October long. Meg cajoled until Castiel agreed to sneak out. Benny, Dean, Sam and Ruby were all going as well, and Castiel was genuinely looking forward to seeing all of them as well. He counted Meg’s extended group of friends as his friends too, even if he didn’t have contact with them outside the times he saw them with Meg. If Michael weren’t as strict, Castiel might like to think they’d want to talk to him, hang out on the weekends maybe. As it were, Castiel didn't’t want to push Michael to try and get allowance to see any one else that didn’t go to his school. Or in the case of Dean and Benny, kids - not so much anymore - who had graduated already.

So he agreed to sneak out again. Castiel did find that having a social life, or the ghost of one, was distracting during school. His grades might be slipping a few percentages, but considering that they were all in the high nineties, so long as he maintained above a ninety three his four point GPA wouldn’t suffer. Staying up late to talk with Meg cut his sleep time down, and Castiel gained a new understanding of adults obsession with coffee. Michael was never in the kitchen when Castiel had breakfast, but he caught Naomi and Raphael side eying him at the coffee pot. Let them think what they want.

Getting another taste of freedom, and more experience crawling off the sunroom roof, Castiel found himself growing more confident in his defiance. Or at least, in snatching these opportunities for himself in secret. He could be confident about that. He didn’t have to own up to it yet, he didn’t have to be confident to Michael’s face, so he’d take what he could get and enjoy it while it lasted.

Honestly, the movie Meg took him to was horrible. Dean, Benny, Sam and Ruby had rolled up in Dean’s Impala. They chatted outside for several minutes before the movie started, then Sam and Ruby requested safe haven in the back of Meg’s hearse from what was apparently the inevitable ‘face sucking’ time of Dean and Benny. Castiel thought the window in the partition might be too small to watch a movie from. Apparently Sam and Ruby just wanted their own face sucking time.

As much as Castiel enjoyed making out with Meg, he was genuinely interested in the watching the overly dramatic old movie with terrible, cheesy special effects that had to be horrifying to someone ages ago. Meg seemed content to lean across the car seat into his space and giggle about it with him, whispering trivia she knew from watching this same movie several Octobers in a row. He liked the ease of her presence, un-demanding. Although he enjoyed getting under her skirts, there was something satisfying to spending the evening with his arm wrapped around her shoulder and no expectations for more.

They didn’t stay out too late, and they didn’t progress beyond a little groping and kissing. It was still one of the best nights of Castiel’s life. It seemed all of his nights with Meg made it into that category. Either he had a very uneventful life, or Meg was very exciting. 

He snuck out again to spend the night with her the following week, being recruited to help her with a school art project. Meg took him to the cemetery down the road from her house with charcoals and thick papers, armed with flashlights, to make rubbings on the old gravestones. Castiel was concerned that they were trespassing, and might get caught. But Meg reassured him that she snuck out to the graveyard every now and then for isolated quiet time. It was peaceful, in its own solitary way.

They didn’t talk much, separating to find the oldest or strangest headstones. He could hear her across the graveyard, the crunch of twigs where she walked and the scritch scratch of her charcoals. By the end of the night his fingers were blackened and it was streaked on his sweatshirt. Finding ways to stealthily clean his own laundry was a pursuit Castiel was making improvements in.

Several weeks after that found him roller skating for the first time. Every conversation that he had with Meg it seemed she had discovered some quintessential experience of youth that he’d missed, and determined to introduce him to them. So she took him to a roller rink. It was loud, busy, and it smelled strange. Castiel was wary of renting skates that someone else had worn. Meg only rolled her eyes and pushed the basic roller skates against his chest, she had rollerblades for herself and was quite skilled on them.

He wobbled and fell a few times, he skated at a snail’s pace while everyone passed them, he couldn’t figure out how to break. But Meg stayed near him, she circled him, helped him up, sang along to her favorite songs when they came on, smiled under the multi colored flashing lights. Her knee length black skirt swished around her thighs as she moved gracefully around him, loose hair tossed over her shoulders, delicate hands gripped firm in his pulling him forward.

In the brief few months he’d known her, Meg had already introduced him to so many new things. She was his first kiss, his first intimacy, she took him to his first party, his first drive in movie, his first time roller skating. Castiel considered her his social education. It was far more enjoyably than his academic education. She actually seemed quite thrilled to be the one to teach him these things.

Castiel’s seventeenth birthday was approaching, at the end of November. He didn’t expect anything of Meg, but he still anticipated something. She knew when his birthday was, but she hadn’t mentioned any plans in particular. Birthdays were always formal affairs with his family, as everything else was. He was never asked what he might like, gifts were practical, from clothes to school supplies. There would be a family dinner, of course, most likely Naomi would cook whatever she saw fit. Castiel just wanted to spend his time with Meg.

When he talked to her the week before his birthday, late on a Monday morning, Meg asked if he would go out to see her on that Saturday. It had become routine to sneak out every few Fridays. Meg was usually busy with work on Saturdays and Sundays. And his siblings were up early on Sundays for mass. But he had a sneaking suspicion that there was a reason she wanted him that Saturday, so he agreed. It was difficult not to fidget with anticipation all week long. She didn’t drop him any hints or show any mercy to his curiosity when he talked to her that Thursday either.

They had a pick up point by now. Always on the corner of ‘Orchard’ and ‘Vine’, Meg would find him there after he texted his successful escape. Some nights it was earlier and some nights later, depending on when he felt the house quiet enough. He made it out by midnight this particular Saturday, in his button down and slacks with a thick navy sweater and his trench coat as well to ward against the chilly Autumn air.

Castiel was better at avoiding the rose bushes on his descent.

Meg was smiling at him when he pulled open the car door and sat to buckle himself in. There was something mischievous in her regard. She leaned over the seat to kiss him, nipping at his lip, pulling back and coming in again for another kiss several times before she put the car in drive and rolled down the street. It was silent, she never played her music loud when she picked him up at night. Castiel could appreciate the effort at stealth, although he severely doubted her hearse could ever really be stealthy.

"You haven’t told me where we’re going tonight."

"Because it’s a surprise."

"I gathered as much. You didn’t have to do anything for my birthday, you know."

Meg rolled a shoulder, one hand on the steering wheel and another creeping over the seat to rest on his thigh.

"Don’t get yourself too worked up, it’s nothing fancy."

She turned the music back up as they drove farther away from his quiet suburban neighborhood, but it was a softer more melodic band that he liked. They drove for over a half hour, out of suburbia, past the industrial district, through the country and then some. Meg drove down a rutted dirt path slowly, car rocking and whining, until the drive ended at a worn patch of dirt. She got out and rummaged in the back while Castiel waited, pointedly not watching her skirt lift up her thighs - he was watching. She was wearing geometric patterned leggings in the colder weather with her combat boots.

"Are we going to be outside, isn’t it a bit cold?"

"Yeah, that’s why we’re taking a few blankets with us. Here."

She shoved an armful of blankets at him and topped it off with a pillow, slinging a back pack over her shoulders and grabbing her own bundle before closing up her car. Meg led him down a narrow dirt path through a copse of trees.

"You really don’t know what tonight is, do you?"

"No."

"There’s a meteor shower. We probably won’t be able to catch a whole lot, even out here there’s too much light pollution from the city. But my dad’s taken me out here before and I’ve seen a few. It’s nice either way."

"I’ve never seen a meteor shower."

"Really? I figured it would be your kind of thing."

"It might be."

Meg dumped her load on the ground when she found what must be deemed an acceptable spot among the soft grass and wild flowers of the field they were in. She spread a blanket out and layered up pillows, pulling Castiel down to sit next to her. Then she opened her bag and set down a few napkins, laying out a small picnic. Castiel couldn’t help a laugh. Meg wasn’t usually the romantic sort of person, she wasn’t the sort of person to do much of anything as cliche as this. They were having a picnic under the stars.

She must have figured out why he was laughing before he could swallow it back down. Meg punched him - none too gently - on his arm.

“Yeah, yeah. I know I’m being a sap, shut up.”

“It’s lovely Meg, thank you.”

She used her mouth to shut him up with a heated kiss, and he had more appetite for her body than for any food she brought, but he wanted to sit under the night sky with her and share in her offering. It was just a loaf of bread, sliced cheese, apples and bottled water. Simple, easy to travel with and not messy to eat. It was delicious.

The sky had more stars this far out in the country than he ever saw in the city, but Castiel still didn’t see any meteors while they sat in companionable silence eating. When they were finished, and Meg had wrapped up the trash and put it back in her bag, she pushed him down on the ground and curled at his side, lifting the blankets over the two of them. It was a cold night, he could see his own breath even, but it was warm with her next to him. Curling an arm around her shoulders, Meg rested her head on his chest and craned her neck sideways to watch the sky.

There were a few thin scraggly clouds blowing across the sky, the moon was waxing gibbous somewhere on it’s way to full. He could hear a few night creatures rustling in the brush, the chirp of crickets, the call of an owl. Castiel pushed his fingers slowly through Meg’s soft hair, brushing the pad of his thumb over the ridges of safety pins in her ear. He felt her start to tremble slightly, thinking at first it was the chill he pulled the blankets up closer to her chin and made sure they were tucked behind her back.

She rubbed her face against his chest, taking a deep breath. He wasn’t sure why she was holding so tightly on to his shirt where she had her fingers twisted in it. Brushing a lock of hair from her cheek he felt wetness.

"Meg. What’s wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Are you crying?"

"Maybe. Just a little.”

Castiel stroked down the curve of her back underneath the blanket, feeling her ribs expand in a few quick spasms, she was gasping.

"Why?"

"I don’t know. Sometimes, I just get really really sad."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not really."

Her face was pressed against his chest with her eyes hidden from him, he could feel her breathing ragged and hear a few sobs and Castiel was completely baffled, as well as concerned for her.

"Just having you here is nice though."

"I like being here."

Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he wrapped both of his arms around her to hold her tighter.

"I’m sorry."

"For what?"

"I don’t know. Because. Because I have every reason to be happy and I’m not and I can’t really do anything about it. I know it’s probably annoying. Most people, I don’t give a fuck, they can think whatever they want. But I don’t want you to misunderstand me. And. You know, if I’m ever just kind of off, I’m just, I’m sorry."

"It’s all right."

"Really?"

"Yes. Humans are irrational creatures. It happens."

“You’re fucking weird.”

"Sometimes, I think I have a deficit of emotions. So if you have a surplus, I guess we can balance each other out."

"I think you’re plenty expressive. Just in your own way."

"I’m glad.”

She looked up at him then, pushing up on her elbow, and he could see the tear tracks down her cheeks in the moonlight. He swiped one away with the pad of his thumb and she was leaning down to kiss him. It was gentle at first, something tender and warm. She grew more desperate but it didn’t feel like the purely indulgent lust he’d felt with her, it didn’t feel like an expression of wanting, it felt like something jagged and needy. Meg reached down and cupped him where he was already half hard in his slacks - in Castiel’s defense he found that he was usually half hard around Meg.

He pulled his head back, cupping a cheek, squinting at her.

“Meg, it’s all right, we don’t have to do anything.”

She kissed his cheek and nuzzled at this side of his neck, voice barely a whisper in his ear.

“I want to be good for you Cas, I don’t want you to leave me.”

“I’m not. I’m not going anywhere, not for a while.”

“Not for a while?”

“Not for a while.”

“What, you’re not going to make some lofty, unrealistic bullshit promises to me that you’ll always be there?”

“I don’t know. Things change, but I’d like to be there. You are good for me Meg. You’ve made me realize a lot of things about myself.”

“Fuck Cas, what did I do to get you.”

“Gave me my first kiss at my father’s wake.”

That earned him a laugh, and Castiel kissed the top of her head, her cheek, her lips while she smiled with tears still in her eyes.

“Oh yeah.”

“Let’s just lay here a while.”

“I can do that.”

Castiel pulled Meg back down to his chest, curled his arms around her, caressed the dip of her side and the swell of her hip with steady even motions. She sighed and settled against him, tension slowly seeping from her body.

Pointing up at the sky suddenly, Meg exclaimed, “Look, I think I saw one!”

Castiel squinted at the sky, he hadn’t even been watching it. Sure enough, after a few minutes he caught the briefest sliver of silver streaking across the inky blue. “Was that one?”

“Yeah, it was.”

Castiel watched the sky intently as a few meteors flashed by, spaced far apart and difficult to see. But it was another first he could claim, watching the stars with Meg. He didn’t mind if there were only a few, or if they weren’t the most brilliant meteors one might see. He didn’t believe the superstition of wishing on a star, but he still found himself wishing for things in the quietude of night that wasn’t really that quiet for the soft harmony of nocturnal life around them.

Castiel didn’t know why _Romeo and Juliet_ was considered a romantic play. Forbidden love and secret plans, defiance of one’s family and rejection of decades old rivalry. He supposed there were some things he could appreciate about the play. But in the end it was a tragedy and that wasn’t what he wanted. Castiel would take sun drenched days holding hands in public and being kids stupidly in love - or infatuation at the least - over any tragedy.

What he had with Meg was something clandestine and damning. It was thrilling at first, to rebel, but he wanted to give her more, he wanted to be more for her. Yet he couldn’t deny that she was suited to the night. The secrecy of their late night trysts held something peaceful in it. Something private and close and intangible. He could pretend, for a few hours, that the whole world was only the two of them, and then he could have all the dreams of daylight and levity that he wanted.

He wished for Meg’s happiness, and his own strength.

Neither of them had meant to, but the hours of staying up late to talk on the phone or sneaking out of the house were catching up to them. Meg had always been accommodating in staying out late with him, even though she had her own family life, school, a part time job. Castiel didn’t even notice himself slowly slipping into sleep in the middle of the field under warm heavy blankets and a vast dark sky. Meg was a comforting weight against his side, and the world felt right in that moment. They both succumbed to sleep.

Castiel startled awake when the sky was lightening to a subdued indigo, the sun not quite over the horizon but close. He could hear birds trilling to one another as the world started to wake up. Oh no. Jerking up, Meg rolling onto her back with a startled snort, Castiel fumbled for his phone in his pocket.

Five thirty am. Five thirty. And he was half an hour from home.

Shaking Meg’s shoulder, frantic, she sat up with hair tangled wild around her head and looking indignant. Panic was already starting to settle sour in his stomach.

"It’s five thirty."

She glared at him a moment like she was going to question why he was waking her up, then her eyes widened as she glanced around.

"Oh shit."

"We need to go. Now."

Meg bundled the blankets under her arm while Castiel grabbed the pillows and the back pack, practically running back to the car and tossing everything messily in the back of the hearse before piling in. Meg sped the whole way to home, hovering at ten miles over the speed limit.

"Fuck I’m sorry Cas."

"It’s all right, I fell asleep too."

"It’s still pretty early, you might make it in time."

"I can try."

"Shit."

Meg dropped him off only one block away from his house, in front of the neighbors that they were behind, giving him a quick kiss across the seat before he bolted. There was a light on in Michael’s room already, and Raphael’s, but the rest of the house was dark. No kitchen lights or living room lights. Maybe his brothers were still in their rooms. They could be just getting up. It was almost six. Maybe they had showered and dressed. If he was quiet enough he could get back in his room and try to stop having a panic attack.

Castiel hastily climbed up onto the sun roof, scraping his palms against the rough asphalt, sliding his window up and almost falling inside as he hefted himself over the window sill. Pushing the window back down and turning into his room, cheeks flushed with the exertion and no doubt looking tousled from sleeping in a field with his girlfriend, Castiel stiffened when he saw Michael sitting in his desk chair reading from a tablet.

Michael looked up at him with that air of detached disdain, turning off his tablet and setting it aside to give Castiel his full attention. That was never a good thing. Michael’s hair was still wet from the shower, wearing his slacks and button down for church already, though the sleeve cuffs weren’t buttoned. It was barely six o’clock, the sky starting to blush pink at the fringes, but Michael was awake and Castiel wondered if his brother had been checking his bedroom, had been watching him, tracking him. He wouldn’t put it past his brother.

"Castiel."

"Michael."

“Have you been with that girl, Ms. Masters?”

"Yes sir."

"I’ve had my suspicions. How many times now have you sneaked out at night behind my back, against my orders?"

"Only four times, including tonight."

"Four times. And you’ve been talking to her, haven’t you?"

The thought of lying didn’t even cross Castiel’s mind. Michael’s tone had a dangerous sharp edge to it, it was low and calm, perfectly even, perfectly controlled. Trying to talk his way out of the situation or reason with his brother would be futile.

"Yes."

"Do you not understand now why I had forbade you from seeing her?"

"What do you mean?"

"Disobeying me, sneaking out at night, lying. What about your duties Castiel, what about your schoolwork?"

"I’ve kept up with my schoolwork, and all my chores, I can have both -"

"No, you can’t. Clearly you can’t even see how much she’s corrupted you already. I’m disappointed in you Castiel."

Head down, shoulders straight, voice quiet. It was an automatic reaction to the authority Michael radiated. Castiel might not agree with him, with how harsh he was in regards to Meg, but his brother was his guardian. Castiel lived in this house, ate his food, wore the clothes he gave. Michael might be stern, but what choice did Castiel have. He couldn’t support himself. If he kept his head down, if he let this die out, he might be able to pick up whatever pieces could be left in some time. He didn’t want to anger Michael.

"Give me your phone."

Castiel handed over his cell phone.

"I’m going to keep this for a month."

"But, I need it for other things."

"You can use one of your siblings phones. You won’t find yourself with any alone time, you’re grounded for a month. You will attend school and your school activities. When you are not there you will be at home or with a sibling."

"Yes sir."

"Take off your shirt."

Castiel clenched his jaw, slipping his coat off and pulling his sweater over his head. His fingers didn’t tremble on the buttons of his shirt. He knew what was going to happen. The last time his father had taken a belt to him had been almost three years ago. His sister Anna and he had been outside playing in a thunderstorm, they were old enough to know better but careless and they had tracked mud through the house. His father hated messes. Strange he should allow his wife so many kids.

It was understandable, that Michael felt the needed to assert his authority. Although Castiel felt his brother was being unfair, he knew that he was in the wrong as well. A few lashes weren’t too terrible. His mind was already closing off numbly, his self floating distant like an observer above of all of it, as he moved on automatic. Turning around, reaching his arms up behind his head to clasp his hands over the nape of his neck, feet shoulders width apart. The sound of a leather belt through pant loops, the clink of the buckle, they were familiar. This was routine. As it had been before, he knew he would be all right.

"Ten strokes. You will count them."

"Yes sir."

There was a rush of air against his exposed back before the first strike hit, leather wrapping around the curve of his ribs and stinging at his side as it left a hot trail of the first crack across his back. Eyes squeezed shut, he didn’t sway on his feet, not yet.

"One."


	6. Doubt and confession

“I expect you ready for church in an hour and a half.”

“Yes sir.”

Castiel stood with his hands still clasped behind his head, trembling finely, as he listened to Michael put his belt back on and leave, shutting the door with a quiet click. Castiel was facing towards his window, watching the yellow curve of the sun steadily rise over the tops of the houses in their neighborhood. It lit up the underbellies of the clouds in the sky with bright pink and orange tones. It was a beautiful sunrise.

Lowering his arms, Castiel couldn’t decide if he was shivering from the chill in the room or the burning down his back. He didn’t look at his back in the mirror on his closet door, he didn’t look at his face. Putting his shirt back on to cover himself, leaving it open in the front, he peered out of his bedroom door and checked the hall for any of his siblings. With a clear path to the bathroom, Castiel padded quietly down the soft carpet and shut himself inside, locking it behind him.

Stripping down and turning on the shower, he folded his clothes neatly and set them on the sink, eyes averted from the mirror. He set the water to tepid, not quite cold but definitely not warm. It was soothing on the hot burn that stretched from his neck to his waist, curled around his ribs, made his breath catch. He curled under the spray and rinsed, watching a few blades of grass slide down to catch against the drain. He had been careless and messy, still dirty from laying in the field with Meg.

Meg.

Castiel still felt distant from his body, floating around in an undefined space tethered by a thin thread to the shell that he was. He washed quickly and perfunctorily, rinsing and drying, putting his dirty clothes back on to shuffle back to his bedroom. Castiel dressed in clean clothes, the soft cotton of his undershirt feeling like burlap on his back. After his white button down shirt was on, he contented himself with the knowledge that he wasn’t bleeding. Turning to look over his shoulder in the mirror there was no red seeping through. It wasn’t that bad, Michael didn’t even break the skin. It must be only a few welts.

Navy blue tie, suit jacket to match his slacks, hair combed down neat. Castiel made his way down stairs for a light breakfast. Everyone was gathering in the kitchen for church. Balthazar scowled, his tie crooked, as usual. Hanna and Hael sat in their stiff dresses playing one of those games girls made with string between their fingers. Naomi and Raphael were drinking coffee and reading the paper, passing sections back and forth over the solid wood table stretching along one side of the kitchen. Rachel was cooking at the stove, Hester fussing with make up in a hand held mirror. Uriel was reading a book over a plate of scrambled eggs. It was a normal Sunday morning. Like so many Sunday mornings before it.

They drove in several cars to the large church adjacent to St. Sebastian’s school. Every Sunday they arrived at the same time, shook hands with the priest on their way in, dipped their fingers in the holy water and crossed themselves, made their way to the pew where they always sat and genuflected before filing neatly into the row in the same order as every Sunday.

Castiel used to love coming to church when he was young. He thought it was beautiful and awe inspiring. The floor was a soft cream marble, the pews a lovely polished dark wood, the pillars along the side aisles curlicued fancily on top, the rows of stained glass windows rising to the heavens gloriously illuminated by the morning sun. The stories of the Bible progressed from one corner of the church wrapping around to another along the stained glass windows. Saints, hallmark events, Jesus and Mother Mary, he memorized the stories on the windows a long time ago.

Castiel used to go to Sunday school here, in the basement of the church. The floors were squeaky linoleum tile and the walls drab beige cinder block down there. But bright colored pictures depicting God's work, his teachings, decorated the walls. Castiel helped make the murals, like all the kids in Sunday school. They cut colorful thick paper into the shapes traced by teachers and taped together murals to learn about the stories.

As kids they were taught the stories that everyone knew. Of Adam and Eve and how much God loved his children. How he loved Adam so and wanted him to be happy, creating Eve to be his companion. As kids, they were taught about the snake and the apple. Castiel always thought that Adam and Eve were led astray, that they were disobedient, that they had erred. The punishment is perhaps severe, however. Disproportionate to the crime. He still likes the tale of Adam and Eve.

Noah's ark was another favorite. All the children loved to draw and color and cut out the animals for the ark. One of each kind. God saved a pair of every species and he saved Noah's family because he was a kind and merciful God. That's what they learned. The story always seemed to gloss over how God drowned the rest of the earth, the vast majority of his creation. Was that the love and compassion of God then.

The story of Moses and how he freed the Egyptian slaves was one that they spent a lot of time learning about. They cut out gray construction paper like tablets and wrote God’s commandments on them which Moses carried down from the mountain. Honor thy mother and father. Castiel knew every commandment. He knew every sin. He knew the ten plagues that God had sent down. He knew the stories of the Old Testament - God of the Old Testament was a violent and vengeful God - and he knew the life and times of Jesus, he knew the New Testament.

He was a good son and a good student and a good Christian. He had memorized all these things, they were a part of him. They were fibers woven in to everything he was because these stories, these stained glass windows and illuminations of the Bible had imprinted themselves on him since his childhood. He believed them. He found comfort in them.

Castiel didn’t feel any comfort today. He sat stiffly away from the hard back of the pew. Instead of looking down into his Bible while he listened to the priest, Castiel looked up. He looked at the people slouching in their pews, tapping away on their cellphones, nodding off. Even Michael was momentarily distracted by his cell phone. Children picked their noses, adults picked their nails. There were few people sitting still and reverential.

They were surrounded by the images of the violent history of the Bible. Jesus on the cross with his eyes heaven turned and nails in his hands, his crown of thorns seeping red down his holy face. He was always gaunt and starved, stretched out on his cross. Castiel had never thought about it before. He had memorized the stages of the cross so that he would know the sacrifices Jesus made, but he had never thought about the suffering. Yet he saw it every Sunday.

There was no room to doubt God's existence. It is an immutable truth, and Castiel is certain in this. He does however, begin to doubt in the compassion and love of God. It was easy to believe as a child that there was something larger out there, something unknowable and wonderful, something that gave the world purpose and structure. It was easy to accept what he was he taught, when he could only hear the surface of the words, when all he wanted from God was love. The church was refuge, a safe place.

This Sunday he looked around and felt something shifting, something cracking inside of him when all he can see are the disinterested bored faces of his siblings and the pain of Jesus on his cross. All he wanted was to run.

Castiel could remember being young, when he had first been adopted into the Novak family. It was overwhelming. He suddenly had so many siblings, familial expectations, strict discipline, routines and schedules and there was just so much to remember. So much pressure from all sides, and even if he tried to shrink his little bubble of existence they kept pressing.

He liked to think of himself as a bird. Or that maybe someday he could be one. It was a childish fantasy, a daydream. Sometimes he would climb the tall oak tree in the back yard, and he would tell himself that if he could just climb a little higher, if he could reach the top branch, maybe he would grow bird wings and fly away. It was always out his reach.

So he shrunk. He adapted. Always a quiet and introverted youth, he got along well enough for the most part. When their mother had died, he found it easy enough to mold himself to his father's will. It was easier than defiance. It kept his world quiet. It kept his dreams safe wrapped up in his head if he pretended he didn't have any. Although he'd forgotten about them. Left them by the wayside.

Besides, what good would wings do him if he didn't know how to fly.

Jesus had questioned God on the cross and still he hadn’t been able to fly away.

Castiel stood for prayer. He shuffled forward for communion. He turned his head down and clasped his hands. After church, he asked Michael if he could stay for confession. Michael gave him the small tight smile that sometimes stretched his lips like an unnatural thing, telling Castiel that would be an excellent idea. Rachel remained behind to drive him home afterward while the others filed outside. Rachel sat in a pew towards the front and bent her head in contemplation while Castiel went to the one confessional that had a light on outside the booth.

He let himself in to the dark stuffy booth, sitting on the small hard bench along the back, turning his face to the grate. A low rattling voice came through to him, blessing him and offering a prayer.

"In the name of the Father, the Spirit, and the Holy Ghost, Amen."

"Amen."

"How long has it been since your last confession?"

"Around, six months I think."

"And what would you like to confess?"

"I have disobeyed my brother, committed sin with a woman, I have lied."

"And are you penitent for these sins?"

"Yes. No. I don't know."

"What do you mean? Would have you come here if you did not feel guilt for what you've done?"

"I do feel guilt. For some of it. Not for all of it."

"What do you feel you have done wrong?"

"I don't like lying. I don't like to disobey my brother, but I feel he has been so harsh and I find it difficult to follow his orders."

"Your brother? What about your parents?"

"My father and mother are both dead. My brother, he's thirty three, he takes care of all of us."

"You have siblings?"

"Twelve."

"And how do they get along with your brother? Do they find it easy to obey him?"

"Some of them do. I have a few older siblings that have, severed themselves from our family. Most of my brothers and sisters are like minded, they share the same ideals. I have an older brother who is, a little odd but he seems to get along with my oldest brother - Michael - fairly well. I know he does not always obey Michael but they seem to have an unstated sort of agreement."

"Your brother, Michael, he lets this other brother get away with things he doesn't let you?"

"I don't think Michael knows, about what he does.”

"And you want to be like your other brother, able to do as you please?"

"No, not necessarily, it's not that I just want to do anything I like, I don't always agree with my brother but I want him to understand."

"What is it you would like him to understand?"

"I met a girl, that he doesn't approve of."

"This is the woman you have sinned with."

"Yes Father."

"What is the exact nature of your sin with her?”

"We have not .... had sexual intercourse, yet, but I have committed other sins of the flesh with her, I have lusted with her."

"How old are you child?"

“Almost seventeen."

"Am I safe to assume you are not married?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps if you had a more wholesome relationship with this girl you like, your brother would be more approving."

"My brother wouldn't approve of her one way or another."

"That doesn't make what you are doing right."

"No. But, she makes me happy."

"And that is something you deserve, to be happy, but you do not need to be intimate with her to achieve that. There are many other things you could pursue together, and when the time is right, if she is the right girl for you, then you can marry and start a family with the blessing of God."

"She doesn't believe in God."

"Do you believe in God?"

"Yes."

"Good. Perhaps, you could show her the ways of the Lord, the love and the mercy of his light, and if she were to follow in your footsteps and come into the fold, then your brother would be forgiving."

"I don't think she'd ever believe."

“That is a difficult problem. But whatever she believes should not affect what you do. And if she likes you, she would respect your decisions.”

“She does. She hasn’t - it’s not like she’s made me do anything.”

“You need to be strong against temptation. If you are incapable of that, perhaps your brother is right in trying to protect you from that. You are still young, it can be difficult. Trust your elders.”

“I try. Can I ask you a different sort of question Father?"

"Of course."

"Why did God send his only son to suffer for us?"

"To redeem us of our sins."

"I understand that, but why did he have to suffer, why did Jesus have to endure so much?"

"Because many people did not understand who he was, many still do not understand. But Jesus loved us so much he was willing to suffer, to die, for us. And in death he was resurrected, to prove the power and the love of God."

"If God wanted to forgive us, why didn't he just forgive us, why make his son suffer?"

"It was God's suffering as well. A price had to be paid. And Jesus needed to walk this earth to teach people, to spread the word of God. It was not all for the sake of his death, it was for his life as well, for the good that he did as a Shepard of God's children."

"I don't understand."

"Many will feel doubt in their faith at some point. God gave us the ability to doubt because we need to make choices of our own. We must have faith in God because he is stronger and wiser than we could ever be. You may find yourself doubting your own choices and your place in life, but if you keep your faith strong in God's love he will show you the way. Say ten Hail Mary's before bed every night and pray to God for guidance. He will provide for you."

"Yes Father."

“Good. Do you have any other questions child?”

“No Father.”

“Then go in peace. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

“Amen. Thank you Father.”

Castiel sank to a knee and crossed himself before standing stiffly and exiting the confessional, closing the door softly behind him. He walked the perimeter of the nave and paused in front of the altar. There were several steps rising to it, rich red carpet around it, the back of the apse decorated in gilt bordered pictures of angels. He used to count the feathers on their wings. Castiel turned from the apse and approached Rachel, tapping her lightly on the shoulder. He left the church feeling a crawling sense of wrongness scratching behind his ribs instead of the calm peace he used to associate with Sunday worship.

Rachel drove home silently with him. Castiel told her that he would be happy to help with her chores to thank her for staying late so that he could go to confession. Rachel smiled at him, and asked if he will take the laundry. Castiel knew that she had a boyfriend she met at college, he had been over to dinner several times. Joey, if his memory was correct. A nice guy in a sweater vest with thick black glasses who looked at her with obvious regard and spoke to Michael with polite respect. Perhaps Rachel was taking the opportunity to have more time to see him. She had her own car, a part time administrative job, a three point six GPA in college. She is a good daughter.

When they arrived home, Castiel skipped lunch to shut himself in his bedroom. Standing in the middle of his room, shoes removed and tucked at the foot of the bed, jacket hung back up in the closet, he regarded the bare walls of his room painted in beige. Most of the house is neutral. White, off white, beige, brown, creme. He's never placed posters on the walls, or lined the small bookshelf he has with trophies. There are a few of those - for debate team, for soccer when he was younger, for a spelling bee once - and they are tucked in a cardboard box in the corner of his closet.

His room is functional. There are books on the shelves and clothes folded neatly in the drawers of his dresser. Everything has a place, and everything with a place has a purpose. Castiel has never considered it boring before. But he looks around himself now, and he wonders what in this room is truly, uniquely his. What holds meaning for him here, what holds purpose for him besides the purpose he has been given by his family, his father, his brother.

Pulling his tie off and unbuttoning his shirt, pushing his pants off his hips and letting his clothes stay in a messy pile, Castiel regarded himself in the mirror on the back of his closet door. He didn't look at himself frequently, not for anything but the purpose of straightening his clothes or attempting to flatten down unruly hair.

From the front, he can see just a few patches of skin down his sides where the belt had curled around to the front, pink and tender. Craning his head around and twisting to look, his back was red and purple from the neck to the waist. Only ten strikes. Mostly spaced apart, but Michael had struck the middle several times and it was a livid purple there spanning underneath the jut of shoulder blades across his back. The rest were just red raised welts. Tracing his fingers along the edge of an outline, the raw skin felt different. It hurt to the touch, quick to thrum under his skin with heat.

Twisting back to front, Castiel looked at himself and he hated what he saw. Someone who was just a blank page. An instrument. An empty cup. He doesn't know who he is, because he has always been who others say he should be. He has been his father's son, his church's sheep, his school's honor student, his brother's charge. And he has been Meg's something. But he doesn't know what he is to himself. Who he is.

Growing frustrated with himself, and this sudden roil of doubt that makes his head swim with undefined wanting, Castiel dressed again. Pulling on a comfortable pair of sweat pants and a sweater, he wandered through the house to the laundry room where several baskets were waiting. Rachel had already gathered the hampers and set them here for him. The rhythm of sorting and filling the machine quiets his mind. In between loads Castiel reads sitting on top of the warm humming machine. He folds dried clothes and takes piles to his siblings rooms, ducking away from conversation when he can.

Castiel was uncertain exactly why, but he has slipped one of his sister Hanna's skirts in between his pants, taking them back to his room to put away. Hanna attended school at The Elms with Hael, an all girl Catholic school. Their uniform is a red plaid skirt with yellow and green cross stripes. Hanna was almost five years younger than him, just over twelve now, so the skirt wouldn't even fit.

Finishing a few other chores around the house, vacuuming and sweeping, Castiel ducked into the girl's bathroom upstairs and hastily opened one of the vanity drawers where several neat containers house various hair clips and make up. He snatched a long black pencil, and a red tube, tucking them into his pocket and slinking away. Finishing the rest of his work, Castiel spent the rest of his day listlessly day dreaming and thinking about what the priest had said to him.

After dinner, Castiel retreated to his room. There is no lock on the door, but he wedged the chair from his desk underneath the knob. Stripping out of his clothes again, placing them on his bed, he stood in front of the mirror and made himself look again. At his back, at his body, at his face. At the flat plane of his chest and the barely defined ridges of his stomach, the curve of his hip bone, the thin hair on his thighs and the thick curls around the base of his cock. The way his forehead creased when he frowned at himself. The way his skin twitched when he twisted at arm around to scrape his fingers over a welt.

He retrieved the make up from his pant pocket. Castiel stood close enough to the mirror that he almost bumped his nose on it when he pulled down on his cheek and tried to apply the eye liner like Meg had. He ended up poking himself too many times in the eye. At first he didn't seem to get any on because he was being too light, then he smeared it in an uneven line being too rough. Scowling at himself and rubbing a finger under his eyes trying to smudge it off or straighten it, Castiel ended up with messy thick smeared eye liner that was definitely not flattering.

Persistent, he tried the lip stick next. That was at least easier to stay in the lines, dragging the color over his pink lips and swiping off a little stray over the bow of his upper lip. It was poorly done, too heavily applied. His eyes were red and watering from his poor technique with the eye liner. But when he looked at himself in the mirror - at the wide set of his blue eyes and the darkness of his lips - he didn't recognize himself. That was a good thing. That was what he wanted.

Running his fingers through his hair to muss up the neat part he usually had, spiking it at odd angles, Castiel contented himself with the sloppiness of his appearance. He held his sister's skirt in his hands, considering it, the material coarse between his fingers. Castiel bent forward to pull it up over his legs, wriggling his hips to get it up. It was too small to even close the zipper an inch, and it had to be pulled up to the narrowest part of his waist, agitating the welts on his back.

He shifted it so the open zipper was in the back, smoothing the front down with his hands, the length of it to the tops of his thighs. Standing in front of the mirror, fingers splayed over the skirt, face messy with makeup, bruises curling around his ribs, Castiel looked at himself. He looked at himself with intent, from a different angle. This was entirely something of his own making, of his own motivation. This was his choice.

What was so wrong in the act of touching himself, in touching a girl. Was is because lust was a sin. So were pride, and envy, and wrath. His brother had plenty of those sins. He knew more than enough devout Christians that were gluttonous. Or slothful. Everyone sinned and everyone went to church on Sunday to hold their place in line for heaven. If you were contrite enough to beg forgiveness of God he would grant it, but what burden then did sin bear but the sour guilt so many seemed practiced at ignoring. Why should he feel guilt for desiring simple pleasure, companionship, was it not worshipful to appreciate the beauty of His creation.

He thought of Meg, and he thought of sin. He wanted to love who would love him back. He wanted to love himself but he didn't even know who that was.

Castiel wasn't certain if he was really the kind of boy liked to wear skirts or not. Perhaps he just wanted to try out something that he knew was on the other end of the spectrum from what Michael was trying to make him into. He had to admit that he liked it when Meg dressed him up. He liked how she did his make up. Maybe he had only liked her attention. But there was something settling hot and heavy in his stomach looking at himself like this.

His cock stirred, thickening under the skirt, as he brushed a hand over it. It was confusing though, because he liked Meg, he liked girls, and he thought that this was supposed to be something gay boys did. Maybe he liked boys too. He could recognize the steady thrum of arousal around some boys, thinking about them. Wondering what it would be like to feel a cock in his mouth. If he would like it as much as he liked tasting Meg's sex. But she was his girlfriend so that seemed to be a moot point. Perhaps he could still wear skirts, with her at least. He could be anything he wanted, anything he made of himself. If he had the courage for it. The strength to take it.

Pulling the skirt up, his cock twitching, Castiel closed his hand around it loosely. There was a tight twist of shame in his belly, the familiar tension of guilt coiling around him like it was going to choke him off. He knew this was wrong, even if it was something he wanted for himself, it was wrong of him. He still did it anyway, still gripped himself hard in his hand and slid his palm along his length. Teeth stained red with lipstick when he bit his lower lip, Castiel watched himself and felt the shame getting tangled up in the lust.

Folding the skirt up and tucking it under his arm so he could pump his hand over his cock faster without it getting in the way, Castiel cupped his hand and spent in his palm, curling over himself and shuddering. He squeezed the residual semen out before letting the skirt drop. It was strange enough to wear his sister's skirt while he masturbated, he wasn't going to get his semen on it. Wiping his palm off on a tissue and cleaning with the bottle of Purell he'd started keeping in his room, Castiel stood in his room feeling empty and sore wondering what he was supposed to do now.

Tugging his sister's skirt off, he pulled a pair of pants on. His back was raw and sensitive, so he left his chest bare as he pulled the chair away from his door. Spitting on a tissue he tried to wipe away the make up as best as he could. He hid Hanna’s skirt in his laundry, to take back down with the dirty clothes and wash it again another day. He knelt at the foot of his bed, said ten Hail Mary’s, and prayed to God for guidance.

Castiel went to sleep that night on his stomach, with an old shirt bunched under his chin still smelling faintly like clove cigarettes and floral perfume.

The next morning he woke sore and confused, his back aching and a wet patch of drool on his forearm from where he had slept face down on it. Taking a deep breath and cursing his alarm as he rolled out of bed, he avoided the mirror again as he went about his morning routine.

Castiel figured it would be best to at least sit out the month that he was grounded. He couldn't simply drop all communication with Meg however, without giving her an explanation at the least. Without his phone, Castiel hoped he could send her an e-mail, but he didn't even have an address for her. That was how he ended up recruiting Batlhazar, much to his brother's amusement.

He hadn't told Balthazar everything about Michael's punishment. And he wasn't going to. What he told his brother was that he was grounded for a month and his phone was taken away, so he needed Balthazar to relay a message for him. His brother seemed all too eager to be Castiel's secret confidant and help him, in Balthazar's words, 'woo his forbidden lady love'. He could be rather melodramatic.

School that Monday was exhausting, his back sore from sitting straight up away from the backs of chairs all day. He carried his back pack at his side. Everything twisted itself around in his head and tangled like too much yarn. Castiel found himself analyzing the events of the past few months, from his brother's edicts to his own transgressions, his activities with Meg, what he'd done, what he'd wanted. He couldn't tell if his brother was being unreasonable, or if he was being unruly. A combination of both, certainly, but to what extent. And who decides. There were too many shades of gray, and Michael's actions had helped to remind him of the often stark black and white of their household. He had understood it for years. Now he was just confused.

There was chess club after school, and he had a ride home with Rachel after that. Before he could find himself to the classroom where the club was held, Balthazar was pulling him aside and ushering him outdoors.

"I've got a surprise for you Cassie."

"What do you mean?"

"I called Meg and told her about your predicament. She wanted to meet you after school."

"I have chess club."

"You can skip it."

"I'm not supposed to -"

"Blah blah, Michael's a dick and no one will care if you skip chess club. Come on, Hardesty park is only a few blocks away. You can make smoochy faces behind the bushes and run back to school before the club lets out, Rachel will never know."

"Balthazar."

"Cassie. She's expecting you, you can set up some sort of code for your exile, it'll be exciting."

"I've had a lot of excitement lately."

"I think it's done you good."

Balthazar was smiling impishly at him, still tugging him by the wrist towards the park. Castiel glanced back at the school, where he was supposed to be, squinting against the bright sunlight, his back pack heavy in his hand. He turned away and followed Balthazar down a dirt path that ran through the bushes and over rail road tracks to the park. Balthazar winked at him before trotting off, no doubt to collect Uriel and take him home.

Meg was sitting on top one of the park tables, her feet resting on the bench, a purple and black dress with a strange cut along the bottom trailing over the table, thick black leggings and a tattered old sweat shirt on. She was doing homework on her lap, hunched over, chewing on the end of her pen when she saw him and set everything aside.

"Cas, hey!"

"Hello Meg."

Hopping off the table, she pulled him close for a kiss, smirking wickedly at him.

"So your brother found out and you got grounded huh?"

"Yes."

"Well you can call yourself a proper teenager now. I mean, who doesn't get grounded at some point."

Castiel frowned at her, she had the oddest way of thinking of things.

"So how long you got?"

"One month, no phone, and I'm supposed to have a sibling escort everywhere I go."

"Ouch, damn that's harsh."

Castiel nodded, leaned forward to peck her cheek. He was intent on being good for the month. Mostly. Surely Michael would be watching him like a hawk.

"Do you have an email? I might be able to at least message you from the school computers."

"Yeah, sure."

They traded information, Meg scrawling her e-mail on a scrap of paper which Castiel carefully tucked inside his wallet between an ID and a few bills. He'd memorize it and destroy the evidence later.

"So you're going to actually behave huh, not going to sneak out to see me for the whole month?"

"That would probably be best."

"I guess. Sorry if I kind of ruined your birthday."

"You didn't. It was worth it."

"Good."

Meg pulled him in for a hug and Castiel tried not to flinch when her arms wrapped around his back but he squirmed away from her too quick. Meg was glaring at him. He looked down and started to step back, but she grabbed his arm.

"Cas, are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

Meg slapped the back of his shoulder. It was sudden and wholly unexpected, Castiel gasped when a flare of pain shot through his sore muscles.

"Jesus, fuck, sorry, what the fuck happened Cas?"

"Nothing. It's fine."

She wouldn't let him go.

"Did Michael hurt you?"

"I disobeyed him. He disciplined me. It's not severe."

Meg was pulling his face up, brown eyes concerned, lips twisted into something he couldn't decipher.

"Cas what did he do?"

Pulling his chin out of her grasp, he grabbed his bag where he'd set it on the park bench.

"Show me."

"No."

"Cas."

"Your concern is appreciated, but unnecessary."

"Goddamit."

Meg pulled him behind a tree; the park was quiet and near empty but it was shaded and more private behind the massive trunk of an old maple. Her voice was gentler but firm, and Castiel knew that she was too stubborn for him to handle sometimes.

"Show me."

Castiel shrugged out of his sweater and unbuttoned his shirt, loosening the tie to hang around his neck while he pulled his shirt down and turned around.

"What the fuck."

"It's not that bad. I brought it on myself."

"You can't be serious."

"I've been disciplined before. This isn't bad."

"Ok, Cas, I'm all for disciplining kids, you know, a slap on the wrist, time out, a swat on the bottom. This is fucking severe. This is like, call child services bad."

He turned his head sharply to glare at her over his shoulder.

"It's not that bad."

Pulling his shirt back up and straightening his tie, Castiel avoided her eyes while he pulled his sweater on.

"We should tell my dad."

"No."

"My brother."

"No."

"Fucking someone Cas, Jesus, you can't just -"

"Meg, it's all right."

"No, it's not."

"You'll just cause more trouble. I know how to deal with my brother. Please, just let me deal with this."

“Fuck you asshole.”

Castiel scowled at her and she scowled back before grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him in to kiss him. Tilting his head down at an angle to catch her lips and lick into her mouth, Castiel would take all her warmth and all her care, he would save it up inside himself for the month. The anger in her eyes on his behalf would tide him over. He wasn’t sure if he had enough in him to feel angry for himself.

“It’ll be fine Meg.”

“You take care of yourself Cas. You need anything, call me okay, find a way to get in touch, I don’t care when or what you need, if you get yourself in trouble, you call me.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Of course I’ll worry about you. I don’t like this. You should tell someone.”

“No.”

Pushing soft hair off her face, he kissed her forehead and stepped around the tree to pick up his back pack again. He waved at her while she continued to frown, turning back to the dirt path to school. No one needed to know. There was nothing to know.


	7. Cloud

Over the course of the next few days, Castiel didn’t e-mail Meg, he didn’t do much of anything but move on automatic through his routine. It was like wading through water, everything took more effort, more time, more consideration. He slept on his stomach and every night he knelt and prayed. He watched himself in the closet mirror, the way the red welts went down and the bruises first deepened to a plum purple before lightening to sickly yellows and greens. 

On Wednesday he did send an e-mail to Meg; he didn’t want her to worry about him. Thanksgiving was the next day so it would be a long weekend off from school. But he didn’t want to use a computer to try and message her, rather he slunk off during lunch break to the school library. 

Thanksgiving used to be a big holiday for his family, when their mother was alive at least. By the time Castiel was old enough to remember, Gabriel and Lucifer were living away from home and he almost never saw them outside of the holidays. Lucifer didn’t even get along well with their mother, he didn’t get along with anyone it seemed, but to a young Castiel, Lucifer was an angry person and someone to be avoided. He figured there must be something wrong with his brother, that even their mother looked sadder when he was around. 

Gabriel however, mother doted on him when he came home for the holidays. Their father was distant to Gabriel, one of the ‘lost causes’ of the family. But Castiel didn’t understand why when he was little. Gabriel always had smiles and candy to give out, always hugged their mother tight and gave enthusiastic interest to his younger brothers and sisters.

The Thanksgiving holiday mostly fell by the wayside when their mother died, although their father put a half hearted effort into it when he was home, at least in an attempt to corral the children together for appearances sake. This year, especially a scant few months after father’s death, Castiel doubted they would do much for Thanksgiving. And he was not mistaken. Lucifer, Gabriel and Anna were all too busy to come home. Naomi spent the day with her fiancé’s family. Raphael brought home a ham and they all had a sedate dinner. Even Balthazar seemed more somber than usual. 

Every night Castiel prayed, and he spent the weekend pouring over his Bible as well as a few more illicit texts that Balthazar had suggested to him that provided a counter argument. He knew what he wanted to believe, what was logical to him, but he couldn’t shake years of belief and learned habits. He still craved a closeness with God, with the love and light and compassion that was the best of Christianity, but the dogma and charged vitriol of some of the more contested points of the religion rankled him. Church that Sunday was another frustrating affair. 

When he checked his e-mail at school on Monday, Castiel was surprised how much the simple message from Meg had managed to lift his gloomy mood. Instead of calling every few nights, they sent e-mails over the next couple weeks. They were simple short things relaying day to day mundane niceties. Castiel had told Meg that he was using the school’s computer, and that they should send appropriate messages accordingly. For the most part she complied, until almost three weeks of his grounding were up and she had told him in simple terms that she wanted him to skip chess club and meet her at the park, for which she would give him a blow job in the back of the hearse. 

Having an erection at school was unfortunate. He sat in the library staring at the message with his face flushed sitting stone still for fear of drawing attention to himself. Castiel was determined to serve out his time in quiet contemplation of his actions. He really was. He had the best of intentions. But just one hour, one day, would that be so bad. He missed her voice, and her smile, the way she challenged him, and touched him so frequently with no purpose but the closeness of it, and how easy it was for her to take more. 

Castiel wasn’t reaching any answers on his own. Although he was trying to be patient, he was only disappointed, and he felt starved for some new insight. So he agreed to meet Meg. That Monday, he lingered around school until most of the students had gone, not wanting Uriel to catch him leaving school grounds. It was early December, but there had been only one light snow fall so far and the weather, although cold, was sunny and pleasant. 

Meg was laying on a park table staring at the sky when he found her. Legs dangling over the end, ripped tights and combat boots, she was kicking her feet back and forth idly. She turned her head to the side when she heard him coming, crunching through the leaves still on the ground, and smiled when she saw him. Castiel was smiling too, despite the sour twist of guilt in his belly. He was much more happy to see Meg than spend his evening in chess club. 

There was a leaf stuck in her hair as she sat up, ruffling her messy hair even messier to dislodge it, the black nail polish on her nails was chipped and the dark liner under eyes was smeared, but her cheeks were rosy with the late autumn chill and the soft brown of her eyes was brilliant in the sunlight. Castiel stepped up to the edge of the table she was sitting on and cupped her chin in one hand to tilt her face up and kiss her. She smiled against his lips, easy and soft, before pressing against him and devouring him. 

When he pulled apart, breathless, one hand sill in her hair and the other on her thigh, Castiel pecked the tip of her cold nose and said, “Hello Meg.”

“Hey Cas. Guess you couldn’t stay away a whole month after all, huh?”

“No. I didn’t want to.”

“Good. I missed you, you fucking dork.”

“I’ve missed you too, I’ve missed talking to you the most.”

“Yeah, e-mailing sucks. Ungh, at least it’s almost Christmas break. Even with the essay’s I have to finish, I am so looking forward to a break.”

“Is your family big on the holiday’s? I didn’t think you would celebrate.”

“Eh, kind of, not really. No one in my family is religious but my dad always celebrated it when we were kids, because you know how kids are, we loved that shit. Now, we like to get things for each other, but we always celebrate a few days after Christmas and just buy stuff on clearance. It’s great. It’s like our own holiday.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah. I bet your family is big on it?”

“Oh yes. Lucifer, Gabriel and Anna will all be coming in from out of town. I wasn’t certain if we were still going to have a big get together, without father, but I think Michael still wants to carry on the tradition. He’s trying really hard to keep everyone together.”

“Do you like your other brothers - and sisters - the ones that live away?”

“I do. It’ll be nice to see them.”

Castiel hadn’t always gotten along well with Lucifer and Gabriel, too many years between them, and it was easy when he was little to believe what his father, and what Raphael and Michael, said about them. Anymore, he wasn’t quite so sure. Lucifer had always been a trouble maker, and a loud one at that; Castiel never like the fighting between him and Michael or their father. He didn’t know why Lucifer couldn’t be a good son. 

Gabriel, he had a more sly sort of rebellion. He didn’t have the wrath and pride of Lucifer. For the most part, Castiel had only seen him getting along with their father. But Castiel was vaguely aware from his other siblings that Gabriel had practically disappeared when he turned eighteen. Anna had followed in a similar vein, she was well composed and quiet around their father for the most part - although what trouble Castiel got up to as a child was usually from following her antics - but as soon as she graduated high school she moved away and cut ties. 

It would be good to see them again. 

Meg was pushing him forward, scooting off the edge of the table, wispy black skirt falling down her thighs to mid calf. 

“Come on, I’m parked in the lot. We can have some privacy.”

Castiel nodded, following quietly, nervous and excited. He glanced around the empty park and the cracked asphalt parking lot that was set back from the road, wary of being seen. But he had still come here, still followed her, the boldness she lent him outweighing any trepidation. She was such a fierce and lively thing, he felt like some of it rubbed off on him when he was near her. 

Meg practically pushed him into the back of the hearse, crawling after him and shutting the door. Castiel twisted around to face her, leaning back on his hands and she straddled his legs, crawling up his body and undulating her hips on his lap as she curled over him in the small space and kissed him. One hand in her hair and the other at the small of her back, Castiel let her in, slip of tongue and press of teeth, breathing her in and pushing back. 

He let his hunger override anything else for a moment before remembering that there was something serious he wanted to discuss with her. That he needed to at least give consideration to his pastor’s words. To those in his life who seemed to think this was wrong. If there were so many telling him that, could they all be wrong, or was it just him. Pulling back from her, as she caught his lip in her teeth, he smoothed a thumb down the line of her jaw and fell onto his back, pulling her down and tipping her onto her side. 

Curling over and brushing the hair off her face, he asked, “Can I ask you something serious?”

She was breathing harder, her shirt riding up and showing off a pale sliver of her stomach. 

“Yeah, sure.”

She continued to distract him with a hand tugging at his tie and her thigh pressing between his legs. He ground down against it, already hard, before pushing at her hip to separate them just a little. 

“Meg, why don’t you believe in God?”

That gave her pause. She stopped trying to goad on his arousal and pursed her lips at him instead. 

“Really? You sure you want to go there?”

“Yes. Tell me.”

Meg rolled one shoulder and licked her lips, looking up at the ceiling of the hearse. “It just, doesn’t make sense to me Cas. All the stories in the Bible, they’re fucking ridiculous, like how could anyone take that literally I don’t - I mean, no offense, but. Really.” 

Castiel didn’t say anything to argue, just waited for her to continue. 

“And, I just can’t reconcile when people say God is some awesome, benevolent guy but there’s so much terrible shit in the world, and the whole ‘works in mysterious ways’ line, it’s bullshit. People have been using the Bible and religion to oppress and kill and manipulate people, they do the worst fucking things in the name of God, and I know, not everyone’s like that , but still. It’s just, there’s so much chaos and random bad things out there, God doesn’t make sense. It just seems like a lot of people are being lazy and using him as an excuse or a crutch.”

“Would you believe in any God?”

Meg shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t know. Not really. It just doesn’t make sense to me. Does that bother you?”

“A little. But it’s all right. I’ve been, struggling with some doubts myself lately. More about the institution and the application of religion than the concept itself.”

“I don’t care if you believe in God. But there’s like, a ton of sects and branch offs. Religion is totally customizable. There’s nothing wrong with trying to find the right fit.”

“The right fit. I like that.”

Meg hummed in agreement while she kissed down his neck, hand working under the hem of his shirt as she tugged it out of his pants, palm soft and warm settling on the just of his hip. 

“So what brought this on? Are you having doubts about us too?”

“A little. I’m not sure if, if we should really be doing this.”

“Doing what? Kissing? Touching each other in naughty places, being indecent?”

“Yes.”

Meg was unbuttoning his shirt and loosening his tie, turned to lay half on him, one of her legs slung between his, blanketing one side with heat. He could feel the shift of her breath and the press of her breasts against him. 

“C’mon Cas, you’re not a piece of gum, I thought we already went over this.”

“I still …. I still feel guilty.”

“For enjoying yourself?”

“It’s a sin.”

“Lots of things are sins. How many people wait until marriage, how many people even keep it in their pants when they are married? A huge part of the church still thinks being gay is a sin. Do you agree with everything they tell you?”

She was pushing herself up and wiggling between his legs, the flat of her belly pressing against his erection through his pants and her hands slipping behind his back while she looked up at him, long hair fallen over her shoulder tickling his stomach. 

“No. Not everything.”

She kissed his belly button, and licked up his stomach, kissing over his ribs and to his neck. Mouth soft, breath hot, she sucked on the taut drawn skin over his clavicle. 

He whimpered and pushed his fingers through her hair, “I don’t know what to believe in.”

“Believe in me.”

Fingers scratched down his back and she pushed him up to rest against the partition, stretching out between his legs. 

“Believe in yourself.”

Nimble fingers unbuckled his belt and tugged his pants down his hips, cock hard as she pulled it out, kissing the tip.

“Believe in what you can feel.”

Spread legged in the back of her hearse with his shirt opened and pants down, Meg between his legs pressing kisses down the length of his cock and flicking her tongue over it, he felt his breath catch and he wanted, he wanted to believe every word she said, he wanted to worship like she did. 

“Believe in this.”

His whole body jolted when her lips wrapped around the head of his cock for the first time, head thunking back against the curtain covered glass of the partition, hands gripping into the pillows and blankets strewn under them. It was heat up his spine and tension in his belly, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her, trying to stay still, uncertain what to do with his hands, he watched her. Brown eyes dilated almost black she bobbed down, hand circling the shaft and working where her lips didn’t reach as she sucked him into her mouth.

Castiel reached up to push a hand through her hair, pausing midway, not knowing proper etiquette and not particularly capable of dedicating the brain power to analyzing it at the moment. Meg reached up and grabbed his hand, placing on her head, giving an encouraging little hum around him and the soft wet heat of her mouth was bliss. He sifted his fingers through her wavy hair, pulling it back away from her face, black lined eyes and wide stretched lips. 

She pulled up and circled her tongue around him, smiling at him deviously. “You can pull on my hair a little, I like it, I’ll tap you on the hip if you’re being too forceful ok?”

Castiel could only nod at her.

“Don’t think about it too hard, just enjoy it.”

She sunk back down between his legs, and he couldn’t even parse what she was doing with her tongue and lips, he didn’t know it could feel like that. Bolder now, he twisted his fingers up in her hair, scraping his nails against her scalp and tugging lightly at the base of her skull. Meg moved on him with a rhythmic fluidity that spoke of practice and he only barely felt a twinge of inadequacy for his own inexperience. When he felt himself sinking deeper into her mouth, the rub of her tongue and the suction drawing him in, Castiel shuddered and pulled her up with one hand in her hair and the other gripping her shoulder. 

“Meg, ah, I need to - “

She kissed his belly and rubbed the heel of her palm against his cock. 

“You can come in my mouth.”

Castiel blinked and bit his lip watching her go down again, both hands bracing on his hips when she took him into her mouth to the base and he gasped as his release pulse through him at the clench of her throat, muscles trembling and hands clenched in her hair. He shook and panted for air, relaxing his hold her and petting gently over her head. 

“Oh my gosh.”

Meg pushed up and slid along his body to lay against him, licking her lips and kissing the slope of his shoulder. 

“That is the most polite orgasm I’ve ever seen someone have.”

“That was, very intense. I don’t understand how an orgasm can be polite, however.”

“Just, the way your face scrunches up, and you’re so quiet.”

He frowned at her, uncertain if having ‘polite orgasms’ was a good thing or not. 

“What, I’m being serious, it’s cute though.”

Castiel tilted her head and bent forward to kiss her, tasting his own bitterness in her mouth, cradling the back of her head while stroked a hand down her stomach and between her legs, rucking her skirt up. 

“Mm, as much as I’d love a little reciprocation, I think it’s getting a bit late isn’t it?”

“I don’t want to go back. “

“And I don’t want you to get in any more trouble.”

Meg leaned away from him and fumbled in the nest of blankets until she found her phone, checking the time and showing to him. Castiel groaned and slid his arms around he waist. When he was away from Meg, at home or in school, it was easy to let the pervasive fear and doubt swamp him - that what he was doing was wrong, that he was bad. But when he had her on his lap, giggling when his fingers brushed under her shirt and teased up the slender curve of her sides, those feelings ebbed away. He had a bone deep ache in his body, a desire to preserve what they had, a need to wrap Meg up and keep her safe, to keep her close. Once he let himself be cocooned in the lull of her presence it was hard to go back out, to the cold calm quiet of the rest of his life. 

She kissed his lips, and his cheek, and his forehead, sliding down his body and buckling his pants again. Castiel roused himself to be useful, buttoning up his shirt and straightening his tie. Meg’s hands lingered over his thighs, hair a frizzed mess around her head and eyes scrutinizing before she turned and crawled out the back of the hearse. Castiel followed, pulling his sweater and jacket back on outside while she ran her fingers through tangled hair and smoothed her skirt down. 

She locked the door and reached up to ruffle his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. 

“So I guess I’ll see you round.”

“After Christmas? We can hang out during the break?”

“Hell yeah. You going to sneak me a few late night calls when you get your phone back?”

“I will.”

“He kissed her with a bittersweet resignation, feeling more clear headed than he had in weeks. Trudging back along the dirt path over the railroad tracks to school, Castiel made his way back into the building on the opposite side of the parking lot to weave through the school hallways and exit the building where he normally would for chess club, in case Rachel was early. It hadn’t let out quite yet, but he wanted to avoid his peers. Castiel ran his hands over his clothes to check his appearance and flattened down his hair while he waited. His leg was jittering with nerves when Rachel came to pick him up, but he smiled politely and asked her about her day while they rode home. 

Michael gave his phone back the last week of fall semester. Christmas was only a week away, and everyone would be coming in to town for the requisite family gathering. Castiel dared to sneak a phone call to Meg late one night, but they were both busy finishing the semester of school - and with bracing themselves for family gatherings - that they agreed to get together after the holidays. Meg was finishing off several college applications, and had already sent out a few. She had taken both the ACT’s and the SAT’s. In Castiel’s opinion she did very well, although Meg griped that she was only slightly above average and was worried about getting the scholarships she needed.

Castiel had given thought to the fact that he was a year behind Meg in school. That she would graduate and move on. He tried not to think about it overly much, he was under no illusions that what they had would most likely be a transient thing of youth. But she had stated her interest in attending the college in town, where her brother went. If that were the case, then maybe, well then maybe a lot of things.

Finishing the semester at school was stressful as usual, cooped up in the house afterward while the snow started to fall in earnest for the first time that winter, Castiel passed the days between school and Christmas moping and sleeping. He studied for next semester of course, and kept up with his chores, but compared to his usual activities he considered his time spent poorly. He didn’t really care.

Christmas eve, Anna and Gabriel both arrived in town and swept into the house bringing noise and chaos with them. Gabriel was staying at his own hotel room but he was attending the midnight mass with them. Anna was taking a room at the house for the few days she would be there. Lucifer would be driving in the day of Christmas, and most likely leaving by that night as well.

Castiel didn’t realize how much he missed Anna and Gabriel. His brother especially had always been a trouble maker, and whereas the disruption and bickering used to bother Castiel, the shattering of the quiet somber atmosphere that usually pervaded their house and their lives was very welcome this time.

Michael and Raphael maintained their stern disapproval, attempting to keep order in the house with Gabriel running around playing pranks and Anna riling up her younger sisters, Hanna and Hael. The two of them were both still so young and so enthusiastic about the holiday. Uriel never seemed passionate about much of anything, but he was following closely in Michael’s steps. Balthazar disappeared off into the house with Gabriel and Castiel had no doubt the two of them together would be trouble. Rachel and Hester smiled brighter, happy to make cookies with Anna and the younger girls, while Naomi supervised and kept the counters tidied - as well as keeping a bottle of wine close to hand.

Castiel wanted to have a quiet, private, moment to talk to Anna alone. She had managed to stay well enough in the family’s favors while striking out for her own independence. Although she cut ties financially and only showed her face for the mandatory holidays, she wasn’t bitter like Lucifer or satirical like Gabriel. She still talked with her sisters, and with Castiel sometimes too, through e-mails and phone calls. Unfortunately, in the bustle of Christmas Eve he didn’t get any time to pull her aside, and after the midnight mass they all attended together in their best church clothes, everyone was tired from the day’s activities and from each other.

Christmas morning was stiff and uneventful, only Hanna and Hael really interested in the proceedings. Neither of them still believed in Santa Claus but the holiday hadn’t lost it’s magic for them quite yet. Castiel enjoyed watching them unwrap presents, but all the older children received checks from Michael. It was practical. They used to get allowances from their father to buy each other present’s, but it was just shuffling money around and no one particularly cared for it. Lucifer hadn’t arrived yet, but Castiel doubted the eldest brothers would be exchanging anything.

The middle of the day stretched on with cooking and tidying, all of the women bustling in the kitchen and trying to work around one another to make a grand dinner. Maybe they still bothered with that because when mother was still alive feeding them all was one of her favorite things to do. There were hand written index cards of recipes tucked in the corner of a drawer which Anna drew out. Rachel and Hester picked recipes from their mother’s box as well. The script was a graceful slanting cursive, with notes in the margin for variations or simply explaining which kid would or wouldn’t eat a particular thing. Naomi didn’t like to work with her hands much, but she liked to direct and organize the flow of the kitchen.

Castiel didn’t want to spend time with his older brothers so he tried to make himself unobtrusive in the kitchen. He was put to work chopping vegetables. When Lucifer swept in, a loud and sprawling presence that made itself known throughout the house no matter what room he was in, the atmosphere decidedly dropped. Anna and Gabriel - although they had their disagreements with father, and with Michael - they could get along well enough. But introduce Lucifer to the mix and he managed to exacerbate the other’s discontentment to the point of the inevitable fighting that would break out.

There was a collective sigh in the kitchen when a shouting match upstairs in Michael’s study made itself known. It died out eventually, Castiel intent on peeling carrots and potatoes. He started to feel a cloying suffocation creeping up on him with the shift in the room, the press of his siblings too many too close, the sour taste left on the back of his mouth when his brothers fought. He had set his work down and was sitting at the table staring blankly at the bowl he was dropping peelings in for who knows how long when Naomi snapped him back to attention. Anna was gone. It was too warm in the house, there was something itching under his skin. Castiel excused himself, stepping onto the back deck in just his sweater to enjoy the cold air on his face.

He could breathe easier out in the open back yard, light powder snow dusting the skeletal rose bushes. It wasn’t very late in the afternoon but the sky was already starting to darken. There was a pungent smell in the air that he didn’t recognize, and Castiel noticed several tracks through the snow to the large old oak in the back yard. Walking closer, he could hear the murmur of low voices from up in the tree house. It had been a quiet place of refuge for him before, most of his siblings didn’t like playing outside. But there were a few who did, and as Castiel climbed the wood plank rungs nailed to the tree trunk up into the small wooden play house, he poked his head through the floor door to see Anna, Gabriel, Lucifer and Balthazar all crammed into the small space.

Balthazar smiled at him, “Cassie! Come on, come join us.”

Balthazar scooted away from the door while Castiel heaved himself up. Lucifer was leaning back against a small window sill, Gabriel tucked next to him, and Anna leaning against Gabriel. Castiel barely fit next to Balthazar. He was shivering in just his sweater, but smooshed into the small space with his siblings their body heat soon warmed him to a tolerable level. They were smoking. It didn’t look like how cigarette’s did, of course Meg’s didn’t look like regular cigarettes either because they were black, but this was something baser, obviously not store bought. And it smelled strange. Castiel had his suspicions.

"Are you smoking marijuana up here?"

Gabriel burst into a fit of laughter and Anna clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide.

Lucifer leaned towards him, offering the thin smoking joint. “You ever smoke Cas?”

Balthazar took the joint from Lucifer.

Castiel straightened his back, legs tucked up to his chest but he stated plainly, “Yes as a matter of fact I have. I’ve smoked with Meg.”

Balthazar was grinning and nudged Castiel’s shoulder to offer him the joint after all. He took it, looking at it closely before taking a small puff and passing it over to Anna. It tasted odd, completely unlike clove cigarettes, something earthy and potent. He exhaled before the smoke even reached the back of his throat.

Lucifer smiled, his bright charismatic smile, “Oh really? And who is this Meg?”

Balthazar beat Castiel to it, “Meg’s his girlfriend.”

Gabriel and Lucifer both sounded like schoolboys with their chorus of ‘Oooooohs’. Castiel was aware they sitting in a tree discussing this.

Anna clapped her hands, “Oh, you have a girlfriend, you didn’t tell me! Is she from St Sebastian’s?”

Castiel shook his head, “No, she goes to Firestone.”

Gabriel exhaled a long breath of smoke, “So where’d you meet her?”

"At, at our father’s wake, she’s the funeral director’s daughter."

Anna was staring at him open mouthed, Balthazar tittering because he was already privy to this knowledge, while Gabriel snickered and Lucifer clapped, exclaiming, “Wow, go Cas, shacking up with a chick at our dad’s funeral. Now that’s classy.”

"It was at the wake."

"Good for you though, really, I didn’t think you had it in you."

Castiel shrugged and Gabriel was passing the joint back to him, catching his wrist. “Hey, you gotta breath it in, ok Cassie, take a deep breath with it.”

Castiel nodded and tried to inhale deeper like Gabriel told him but he started coughing uncontrollably when it burned his throat. Balthazar thumped him on the back and took the joint from him, smoking it and passing to Anna.

She held it daintily between her fingers. “That’s good though Cas, you should tell us all about her.”

Once he could breath again Castiel replied, “I haven’t seen her much lately, Michael doesn’t like her. Tell me about you Anna, it’s been too long, how is school?”

Balthazar seemed intent on getting Castiel to smoke better, sitting next to him and telling him to breath deeper, open his throat, hold it in, while Anna started chattering about school. Lucifer produced another joint from somewhere and shared it with Gabriel.

Ana was swaying slightly side to side. “It’s just kind of anti climatic, you know. With this semester done, I’ve only got one more, and then what? Am I officially a grown up? I don’t know, I’ve been feeling restless lately. I think, I want to go back packing through Europe after college. I know, I know, it’s cliche, but I’d love to see more of the world.”

Gabriel was nodding, “That sounds like an excellent idea. Spread your wings little dove.”

He started making a sort of cawing noise that had Lucifer cackling.

"I’m serious Gabriel!"

"Hey, I’m serious too! No, no really. Anna, it sounds like a great idea. I know we don’t keep in contact much, but keep me in the know, ok? You gotta leave your itinerary with someone, of course. Hell, I could use a vacation."

"I am not traveling with you Gabriel. We would end up in prison in Russia or something."

Gabriel clutched a hand to his chest looking affronted. Lucifer passed him the joint and smirked, “Did I ever tell you about the time that I got arrested in Paris ?”

Balthazar perked up, “I’ve never heard that story.”

Castiel had been doing a little better at smoking when he did what Balthazar told him, and he was starting to feel a little light headed. Pleasantly fuzzy around the edges like a nice peach. He liked peaches. They were fuzzy. Pleasantly so. 

Lucifer was in story mode as he straightened up and preened. “Well, I lived in Paris for a few months, I think you already knew that, and I had a friend there who owned a club. Now, if you get to Paris, Anna, you have to see a burlesque show. I did a few performances for my friend. And this one night, I was wearing a gorgeous white sequin dress, and this massive pair of ridiculous fluffy pink wings.”

Gabriel was snorting with laughter, Castiel had the feeling he had heard this story before.

"It was a themed night, and my friend thought it would be hilarious if I were an angel. Of course I got a standing ovation for my performance. And we were supposed to go to some sort of after party. I’d had a few drinks backstage, refused to give up my wings yet, and we hurried off through Paris to get to this party when I got separated from them. I’m still not sure what happened to them. But I end up, alone, in my pretty dress and broken wings because by this point I’d fallen down a few times in the ridiculous heels I had on, and I’m weaving down the Champs Elysee when a cop stops me."

Lucifer takes the joint from Gabriel for a hit, passing it back, smoke curling thick around his smiling face.

"And I’m sure they deal with plenty of drunk and disorderly people there, especially on a Friday night, but I tried to set the cops hair on fire."

Gabriel and Balthazar burst into laughter, it took Castiel a moment to realize that the feeling in his belly was himself laughing as well, and Anna giggled when she asked, “Why would you try to light his hair on fire?”

Lucifer shrugged, “I don’t know.”

Everyone devolved into a fit of giggling, falling over each other. It seemed like it shouldn’t be that funny, the police officer was just doing his job, but Castiel still laughed. It was infectious. And it felt good. He wanted to ask Lucifer other things, like why he was wearing a dress, if he does that frequently, if that’s why he and Michael fight so much, how long he’s been like that. There are too many questions to ask. He has questions for Gabriel and Anna too, for the children who have broken away and asserted their own independence. He wants to know what made them leave, if it was hard, if it hurt. If it was worth it.

Castiel hadn’t realized how little he knew about his older siblings. He licked his lips, they were dry, his tongue was dry, and it seemed swollen, he could feel the taste buds on it. Oh yes, he was licking his lips because he had a question for Lucifer. 

“So, you’re a cross dresser? Is that right, do you, do you do that a lot?”

Lucifer looked up at him, assessing, a smirk in the corner of his lips. “Yeah. That blow up was a bit before your time wasn’t it?”

Castiel squinted at him, his ears were buzzing. “What do you mean?

Lucifer nudged Gabriel, “You remember that, when I was seventeen and Mike tattled on me, and dad caught me wearing a dress in my room practicing make up?”

Castiel was used to Gabriel being the light hearted one, but he was looking at Lucifer with serious regret in his face. “Yeah I remember. Course I do.”

“You were the one that convinced dad to take me to the hospital after, two fucking broken ribs man.”

Lucifer broke into laughter, head tilted back, a hand over his ribs like he was remembering and it was a ridiculous anecdote. 

Gabriel scowled, “It’s not fucking funny Luci.”

“Oh, I think it is.”

“You were such an antagonistic shit. You couldn’t just lay low till you hit eighteen.”

“Cause I’m not a fucking coward.”

“Fuck you dickbag.”

Anna practically pushed the joint back into Lucifer’s hands. “So, Gabe, are you still seeing that nice guy, what was his name, Matt?”

Gabe squinted at Lucifer, still with a manic smirk on his face, before taking a drag on the joint Anna passed. “Nah. Boy was sweet, and mercy did he give good head, but he was dumber than a box of rocks. I’ve met the girl of my dreams.”

Anna tucked her hair behind her ear, smile a little less forced now, “Oh yeah?”

“Yep. Her name is Candy Lemon.”

Lucifer snorted at him, “Where did you find her, a strip joint.”

Gabe nodded and laughed raucously, “As a matter of fact I did. She’s a clever girl, and boy howdy you should see what she can do with a pack of ping pong balls.”

Balthazar was wheezing with laughter. Castiel was leaning against his brother, and hadn’t even realized that he wasn’t holding the joint he was smoking, Balthazar was holding it for him. He had one more pressing question he felt he needed to ask his siblings before he floated away into space.

“Can I ask you guys something serious?”

Gabriel exhaled smoke and passed the joint to Balthazar. “Shoot.”

“Do you all still believe in God?”

Gabriel cocked an eyebrow at him. “Man go figure Cas would be the philosophical stoner.”

Anna shoved Gabriel’s shoulder. “Hey, be nice.” She turned her pretty eyes on him, “ Why do you ask?”

“I’ve just, been confused about a lot of things. I always thought being a good Christian meant being a good person, and the other way around. I don’t know anymore.”

Balthazar nodded and draped an arm over Castiel’s shoulders, “You’re not questioning God, you’re questioning the church. Now, personally, I don’t think I could not believe in God, but I’m more of an agnostic. All the pomp and circumstance of the church, it’s not really my thing.”

Lucifer snorted and rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe in God. The whole concept is ridiculous, some all knowing all powerful creature that controls your life. I don’t buy it. And the institution of Christianity? Religion was made up to keep people in line. It’s all bullshit.”

Anna tsked at Lucifer. “It’s not all bullshit. There are a lot of different religions out there, maybe you should take a look into some other ones Cas. I’ve taken some really interesting philosophy classes at school, the Eastern religions, particularly Buddhism and Taoism, I like those. I haven’t really settled on one religion, but that’s ok, you should figure out what rings true for you.”

Gabriel took a long drag and settled back smirking. “Myself, I like to worship at the shrine of Dionysus.”

Castiel frowned at his brother, “Dionysus?”

“Yep. Take a gander at Greek myth little bro, it’ll give you a whole new concept of ‘godly behavior’.”

Castiel nodded, and nodded, his whole body nodding. His brothers and sisters were wise. The more he listened to people outside of Michael, school, church, the more he heard new things and strange things, wonderful things, and they made sense too. It was like Meg had said.

“Religion is totally customizable.”

Gabriel’s face was hazy through the smoke. “That’s the spirit. All right kiddos, I’ve got a bag full of pink dildos, who wants to hide them around the house with me?”

In between giggle fits they strategized a plan to plant dildos where they would most likely be found by Michael, Raphael and Naomi. Castiel did not ask where or why his brother had obtained a bag of dildos, but despite how immature and crass the prank was, he couldn’t help being excited with his siblings. It would horrify Michael. Castiel found himself laughing so hard he could feel a tear falling down his cheek when he thought of Michael tearing through the house holding a wobbly pink dildo demanding who had brought them in. They would all be interrogated, surely, but Castiel could be strong.

After they had finished several joints, and Castiel was feeling like he might float away - more of a cloud than a bird though, aimless, fluffy - they started climbing down from the tree to go back inside. They would sneak back in shifts, so as not to arouse undue suspicion. Castiel went first, giving Anna a lingering hug and leaving his brothers by the tree as he went around the house to the side entrance instead of the kitchen door.

Everything was softer, quieter, gentler. He was worried of showing up at the dinner table reeking of marijuana so he crept upstairs to take a quick shower. Castiel could hear his heart beating, he could feel his blood thrumming, could feel heat under his skin and the coolness of the shower tiles against his fingertips. He hadn’t realized he was petting the shower wall. Oh, he was in the shower already. 

The water felt amazing as it slid down his body, and he couldn’t stop touching his wet skin. Smooth, soft skin, shift of muscle and bone, this was his body, his, this was his mind and he couldn’t quite touch it like his body but it was his. There was heat uncurling through the corners of his body like fern frawns spreading out and his belly felt tight. Forehead cold against the shower tiles he realized he had a hand wrapped around his cock stroking lazily. Shuddering and batting his eyes open against the spray of the water, Castiel stepped back from the shower head to look down at himself.

It was like he was watching someone else do this to him. He could feel his cock in his hand and he could feel his hand on his cock. It was languid and burnt warm like taking a slow drag on the joint and he wondered if Meg had ever smoked marijuana. She probably had. She would probably would with him. He wanted to feel like this with her, untethered and split open - but not in a bad way, not in a violent way, in an exposed way that made him feel more receptive. He thought of Meg and how soft her skin would be like this, how sweet her hair would smell, how plush her lips and how her laugh would echo in his mind. It felt like thick sweet molasses was pulsing sluggish through his veins when he spilled onto the shower floor.

He was mesmerized watching the viscous white semen swirling down the drain with the shower water and he stood there tracking beads of water down the wall until he was shivering under cold water.

Feeling loose and pleasant after his shower, assured he was certainly less guilty looking - or smelling - Castiel padded back downstairs as everyone was gathering at the table. Even if he didn’t smell like he had been smoking with his siblings, as soon as he saw Michael he was worried that his appearance would manage to betray him. Michael would be able to tell. Michael knew everything. Castiel was suddenly painfully aware of his movements, too slow and uncoordinated, his mellow buzz turning sharp with paranoia when he sat down at the table and Michael frowned at him.

Michael looked between him, Lucifer, then Gabriel, flicking over Anna and Balthazar. Lucifer was smirking and leaning on his elbows at the table. Gabriel was slouching back in his chair eagerly piling food on his plate. Anna and Balthazar both seemed at least a little more subdued, and less interested in conflict. Every one else kept their mouths shut and their heads down.

Michael said grace when they had all settled, then turned his attention to Lucifer.

"I want to see you in my study after dinner Lucifer."

"Already been there, doesn’t agree with me."

"You can’t keep showing up here if you’re going to bring that stuff into my house - "

"It’s not your house Michael."

"It is."

"Whatever, don’t pull your high and mighty act with me, I know what you did in college."

"Any blackmail material you think you might have on me, can be discussed in private."

"You know I am sick of your shit Mike, you got one year on me, you don’t get to be uncontested patriarch of this family - "

"I am not going to sit by and watch you drag down any more of my brothers with you."

"Fuck you asshole."

Naomi slammed a hand on the table. “Language!”

Lucifer rolled his eyes at her, “Really? That’s what you want to get upset about?”

Gabriel nudged Naomi and passed an open wine bottle to here. “Buckle up sister.”

She glared at Gabriel, but refilled her glass before putting her napkin neatly in her lap and starting dinner.

Lucifer and Michael sniped at each other for another half an hour, bit off barbs meant to taunt. The rest of the family ate their dinner, either rolling their eyes or just pushing food around their plates in awkward discomfort. It wasn’t long before Lucifer stood abruptly from the table, knocking his chair back and storming out. Michael didn’t even follow him, didn’t even stand to right his chair. There was slightly more pleasant but stilted conversation after that, mostly vacuous pleasantries. Castiel’s high wore off by the time dinner was over. 

After Lucifer had left early, Gabriel didn’t seem too keen to carry out his big farewell prank. It was probably for the best. Castiel still had a dildo, which he hid in his bedroom rather than give back to his brother. If Gabriel was keeping track of them, he didn’t mention it when he gave Castiel a slap on the shoulder on his way out the door. 

Castiel stayed up late to talk to Anna, drinking tea in the kitchen after everyone else had gone to bed. He didn’t want to talk about himself though, about Meg or any of the rebellious behavior he had been up to lately. Rather, he greedily took in all the information Anna would give him about her own life away from home, about her independence and her struggles. The small victories, the hard won accomplishments. Her dreams of traveling. Castiel was fascinated by this concept of a different world, of a life outside their family, of freedom. For the first time, he was excited at the prospect of graduating high school in a year and a half, and claiming it for himself.


	8. Secret

Castiel woke the day after Christmas with more questions than he had answers. He was beginning to notice that the perspective he had of the world was a very small, selective thing. He understood his life within the framework of what he’s been told in school, in church, from his family. And it is becoming increasingly apparent to Castiel that it is a narrow, limited framework. As he now starts to re-analyze his child hood and the assumptions he had made of his elder siblings through the small eyes of his younger self, he wonders what perspective backwards another ten years in time will give him. He doesn’t have much experience to base his thought on, but it is a near revelation that he can choose to believe new things, different things.

Managing to steal a few minutes the night after Christmas to talk to Meg on the phone, the first thing that she mentioned was that she had the entire house to herself that Friday night. Her father would be out of town for a conference on the latest and greatest innovations in the mortuary world, and her brother was going to be traveling for a concert that night. So it would just be her. Alone. All Friday night. Meg made that very clear. 

She didn’t even ask him to come over, perhaps respecting his recent difficulties with his brother, or gauging his own interest. Castiel was interested. He was very very interested. Rebellion was beginning to grow on him. 

Friday came several days later after what felt like weeks waiting, and it was a cold, cloudy December night. Nearly six months after he’d first met Meg, and more than a month since the last time that he snuck out of the house to see her. Maybe she was a bad influence on him. Castiel knew that he had changed since he met her. But he wondered if it really was as terrible a thing as what his brother Michael made it out to be. He had changed. He had ignored his brother’s orders. He had begun to reevaluate his ideologies. He didn’t feel like that necessarily made him a bad person.

The box he lived in was the construct of his family, his school, his church, his community. All the influences in his life that lent him support and structure, they constructed this box. His beliefs and behaviors were a result of this. Fit to a certain paradigm. Castiel had never questioned it. He was always small enough to fit inside. It had felt lately like he was swelling with ideas and curiosities and he couldn’t fit it all inside the box. But a person isn’t supposed to fit inside the box their parents make for them as a child, not for their entire lives. Are they. He thinks the answer might be no. He wants to shift his edges and spill out of his box and redefine this paradigm of his reality. Castiel feels like it shouldn’t be such a bad thing, to form his own opinion, to have wants of his own.

He can still be a good person. He does well in school, helps his younger siblings with their work, he is tidy and respectful. He can still be good if he wraps up in two sweaters and his trench coat and slings his legs over his window sill to drop onto the sun roof at midnight on a Friday to sneak out and see his girlfriend. Is it so wrong to have affection, to have desire, to seek comfort. So long as his actions aren’t harmful to others, Castiel wants to answer that no, it is not wrong.

Slipping on the down slope of the roof, a thin layer of hoarfrost making everything shimmer, Castiel froze in a crouch. He hadn’t quite considered weather in his late night parcours. For now, there is no snow on the ground. There have been a few days it had fallen but the temperatures kept rising over freezing so the powder light snow never staid through the day. Once it starts to snow in earnest and stay on the ground, his tracks on the roof and through the back yard would give him away. If he didn’t fall off the roof and break something. Tense and cautious, he made his way onto the deck rail and onto the deck. He probably wouldn’t be able to see Meg much during the winter. At least they could have tonight.

He texted her when he reached the street through the neighbor’s yard. Ambling along gently winding suburban streets he found their intersection at ‘Vine’ and ‘Orchard’, pulling his coat tight around him and waiting patiently. It was a familiar quiet twenty minutes wait, pacing on the sidewalk, until her long black hearse pulled up.

Castiel opened the passenger side door, grateful for the warm air in the car as he buckled himself in. Meg was grinning at him lewdly.

"Looking for a good time baby?"

"Hello Meg, it’s nice to see you too."

She leaned over the seat to kiss him, car easing forward when she wasn’t paying attention to keeping the gas peddle pressed down. Castiel nudged her back to her side.

"Pay attention."

"Kind of hard to stop thinking about what I want to do to you with the house empty and your company for a few hours."

Castiel blinked, looking at his lap then out the window at the passing street lamps. He wasn’t as comfortable with blatantly discussing the topic of sexual intercourse as her. But he was, also, finding it difficult not to think about. There was, in his opinion, a lot of nuance to the topic of sexual intimacy and virginity. He had at one point assumed, as most probably do, that one had to have penetrative intercourse to lose one’s virginity. On giving the subject more thought, considering homosexuality - in particular lesbians - Castiel wondered if that really was necessary. Perhaps there were gradients.

The street lights of the city gave way to dark country roads as Meg drove them to her father’s house. She parked and led him in through a back door that entered to the kitchen, a more narrow steep staircase in the corner of the kitchen leading to a different hallway upstairs than the maid entrance stairs he had used before. Meg had flicked on the hall light, a pair of sconces at the top of the steps that didn’t even illuminate to the end of the long hallway in the old house. She led him forward into the shadows, footsteps quiet on the carpet, the material of her skirt swishing with a soft whisper.

Inside her bedroom, it was as he remembered but perhaps slightly more tidy, the pile of dirty laundry missing. The rose he had given her was still hanging from the mirror, dried. The smell of spice was thick, incense and cigarettes and perfume, he breathed deeply knowing the ghost of this smell that lingered on his clothes and the familiarity of it so potent here made him flush with heat. Meg was pulling him in, hands pushing his coat off, fingers pulling his shirt out of his pants. She looked up at him, then away, and back, taking a deep breath.

"Just so you know, I’m on birth control, and I have condoms, and I know I’ve told you I’ve slept around a bit, but I’ve gotten tested, and I don’t have anything."

Castiel hadn’t even entertained the thought that she could be as nervous as he was but for entirely different reasons. He cupped her hand in his face and bent forward to kiss her, sliding his hands back into her hair and down to the small of her waist.

"I trust you."

Meg paused pulling at his clothes and gripped the sides of his shirt tight in her hands while she surged up on her toes to kiss him open mouthed and hungry. It pulsed through him, a taut wanting, when she pressed against him and licked past his lips. He pressed her closer with his hand on her back, fingers dipping under the hem of her shirt and splaying against the smooth skin. She separated from him, lifting her arms, and he pushed his hands up the slope of her body before twisting them in her shirt and pulling it above her head.

She was wearing a black bra with a pattern of red embroidered thread looping gracefully along the edges. Brushing his fingers over the curve of her cleavage, cupping over the stiff material of the bra, he stooped to press a kiss to her neck, nosing down against the angle of her collarbone, licking the sweet smelling skin of her breast as a strap fell down her arm. Meg scratched her fingers through his hair and he felt her breath hitch when her chest heaved under him. Then she was pulling him up and resuming her hurried tugging at his sweaters and button down and tie.

"You seriously need to consider clothes that are easier to get out of.”

Ducking down so she could pull a half unbuttoned shirt over his head along with the loosened tie, Castiel tugged his hands through the cuffs still buttoned and stuck on his wrists.

"I wouldn’t mind you dressing me up again."

Meg flung his clothes aside and her hands were hot his exposed skin, eager and kneading into the muscle of his back.

"Another day, no clothes now."

He hummed his agreement, fingers toying with the waist of her skirt, unclasping the zipper and letting the material fall, pooling at her feet. Meg kicked out of the material, toeing off her boots, standing in thin black leggings as she licked across his chest and unbuckled his pants. Meg tugged his white boxers down with his pants as he stepped out of them, nudging him towards the bed and he collapsed backward on it. Sprawled, propping himself up on his elbows, Meg was tugging off his socks then shimmying out of her leggings. Her panties matched her bra, and he couldn’t help thinking she picked out something nice for him, whether it was true or not but he was leaning towards yes.

She grabbed his hips and pushed him further up the bed, cock hard and bouncing against his stomach. Kneeling on the edge of the bed she crawled up his body. Raising his hands to her hips, spreading his fingers down along the dainty material of her panties and conforming appreciatively to the curve of her backside, Castiel watched her for the next move, the next cue.

Meg knelt above him, straddling his waist, and reached behind herself to unclasp her bra. She was a beautiful wild thing, young and reckless, breasts rising and falling with her rapid breath, messy hair tumbling over her shoulders dark and shining, licking her lips and rocking her hips down against him. He could feel how hot she was through the lace of her panties, could feel how wet, and he reacted to her without thought, gripping her hips and holding her tight while he pushed his hips up against her. Meg giggled, putting her hands over his and encouraging him to grip her tight, to push his hands over the expanses of her skin and explore her body.

Castiel realized he’d never been naked with her before. He’d seen her naked, he’d tasted her sex and been in her body with his fingers and tongue. She’d seen him naked, or at least most of the way, had her mouth on him. But they’d never been in this state together. Tugging at the elastic of her panties, he asked, “May I?”

Meg leaned over him, bracing her hands on his chest and lifting her ass with a wiggle, “If you would be such a gentleman.”

She bent forward to kiss him while he pulled her panties off, long hair falling around them and it smelled like her. Lips plush and distracting, he kissed her back while he stretched the material down her hips, legs still spread over his lap, his hands gliding over soft skin and firm muscle. Meg sucked on his tongue and pulled off, rolling over and sticking her legs up in the air as she moved to finish taking her panties off, but Castiel moved with her, kneeling between her legs and taking them off himself. She had slender toned legs, skin pale and smooth, and her toe nails were painted black too.

Castiel was amazed at how open and comfortable Meg was with her body, with her sexuality, with him. Uncertain of where to place his hands and how to proceed, finding he can only kneel between her spread legs as Meg relaxed back on the bed resting her hands on her belly, hair splayed out around her head. She smiled at him with a blush on her cheeks and nudged his side with a foot. Stroking along the back of a calf, Castiel enjoyed having more room to do and to see, not confined to the back of her car or rushing in secrecy. So he lifted a leg with one hand and kissed her ankle.

Meg gave him a peculiar look, her fingers tracing up her belly and over her breasts, playing with herself, as she shifted and propped her ankle on his shoulder, turning her foot to rub the back of his neck. Castiel leaned into the contact, kissing her leg and running his hands over her thigh, dipping down to kiss behind a knee while Meg giggled and pulled him closer by hooking her knee over his shoulder.

"That’s ticklish."

She didn’t hurry him, so Castiel took his time exploring the contours of her body and how his mouth molded around them. Down past her knee, up the thigh, between her legs, over the curve of a hip and the quiver of her stomach, the expanse of her ribs and the swell of her breasts. He laved her soft skin with his tongue and pressed kisses to the outermost of her being, her body. Although what he treasured most in Meg was her spirit and the passion she sparked in him, he couldn’t really ever know her mind to mind but he could know her body, could memorize the shift of breath and blood beneath her skin with his fingertips.

Meg sighed and moved beneath him, sliding a leg up his side, running her hands over the curve of his shoulders and down his back, pressing kisses to the crown of his head and scratching the nape of his neck. She hummed appreciatively and arched up into the contact when he stroked or sucked on a pleasing point, so Castiel would do it again, and again, before moving on. She was unbelievably wet when he pressed his fingers inside her, moaning and clenching her hands in his hair.

"Cas, Cas."

He flicked his tongue over a nipple.

"Cas."

Looking up at her, lips swollen from biting and brow creased, he pushed up on one arm while still curling his fingers inside her.

"Cas."

"Yes?"

"Are you going to make me beg for it."

"I wanted to make sure you were ready."

"I’ve been ready. Are you?"

Castiel swallowed, and nodded. Kneeling up in between Meg’s thighs, hands rested over her knees, he regarded her, panting and stretching her arms up over her head.

"Meg. Would you mind…”

"Hm?"

"I’d be more comfortable if you were to lead."

"You want me to show you the ropes Cas?"

"Perhaps later. We should stick to ‘vanilla’ tonight."

Meg stared at him with incredulity for a split second before bursting into laughter. Perhaps he shouldn’t have gestured the air quotes with his fingers.

Then she was rolling him over onto his back again, straddling his waist and stretching against him to kiss his nerves away. Meg reached past him to the night stand by her bed, opening a drawer and rifling around in it noisily. Castiel was too distracted watching her body, the sway of her breasts and the fall of her hair, running his hands along the curves of her sides and pressing his fingertips into the groove of her spine. Meg arched and rubbed against him, sliding her bare body along his, and he could feel the heat between her legs on his stomach. 

He couldn’t satiate his need to touch her like this, skin to skin, nothing between them but the outermost layers of their bodies. It was fascinating, the shift of her beneath his hands, the firmness of muscle and the soft yield of skin, the places where he could feel bones underneath, could feel the way her body reacted to his touch.

Then she was sliding further down his body, settling across his thighs with a small foil packet in her hand. She looked at him, without the brazen smirk he had come to know that promised wicked things in store. Lips parted slightly with heavier breathes, rosy cheeked and wide eyed, she looked at him in the silence of her room exposed in so many ways and bit her lip, ducking her head so her hair fell over her face more as she opened the foil packet.

Castiel lay beneath her still, hands hovering nervously over her thighs, heart beating fast despite physical inactivity. She took his erection in steady hands and slid the condom on, looking at his belly, at his hands on her thighs, looking anywhere but at his face. When she lifted herself on her knees and held him, Castiel raised a hand to her face to catch her chin and pull her gaze to his. Meg sank onto his cock in one smooth fluid slide, mouth open on a gasp and Castiel groaned, cupping her face and pulling her down.

She let him, bracing her hands beside his head, she let him wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her to him, kissing open mouthed and panting while she rolled her hips and ground down onto his lap. Soft lips against his, tangled hair fallen around their faces, he inhaled her breath and held her against his body. Skin hot to touch, shifting against each other and finding the ways they fit together, Castiel slid his hands down to her hips and felt the motions of her body, mimicking them and rolling up against her, into her.

Castiel couldn’t comprehend in that moment of wonder why anyone would decry this as immoral. Not when he felt a swell of affection and pure simple awe and all he wanted was to wrap himself around Meg, to exist for the sake of her touch and her regard, to love. Was not man made in the image of God, and although it is sinful to worship false idols, what of the need for connection and meaning between God’s children, how could that be wrong. If this was a sin, he didn’t want to be saved.

Meg braced a hand on his chest, pushing herself up and curling her spine as she moved with increasingly frenetic snaps of her hips, thighs clenched against his sides. She made a frustrated little grunt and squeezed her eyes shut, fingertips anchoring into his skin.

"C’mon Cas, dig your heels down, get your knees up a little."

Bending his knees up off the bed and pushing his feet into the mattress, hands still on her hips to follow the guidance of her body, he found he could thrust up to meet her better like this, with more leverage, more force.

"Yeah, yeah, just like that."

Shoulders pressed down and spine arching up with the rhythm of his hips lifting to push into her, Meg swayed forward, head dropped, bracing against him and moaning.

"Cas, Cas, Cas.”

Drawing his hands up the sweat slicked skin of her back to pull her down against him, finding a natural ease to moving with her, inside her, he pulled her back down to kiss her while she shook apart in his arms, hot and sudden and it surprised him again to feel the clench of muscle shuddering around his cock, tight and pulsing.

"Meg."

Clutching her close to his body, faces pressed cheek to cheek, breath against the shell of his ear and hair fallen across his eyes, Castiel came with the quick snapped release of that slow steady build that rushes too fast from him, light headed and tingling. When he was aware of his existence again, gasping for breath, legs burning, he turned his head to find Meg resting her head against his shoulder, watching him, draped along his chest. She blinked slowly, tracing the ridge of his cheek underneath his eye, before smiling and kissing the corner of his lips. 

Castiel was useless. He sunk back into the bed feeling boneless. His muscles ached and he felt hollowed out, but pleasantly so, blinking sleepily at Meg as she moved around. Meg had kissed him and rolled off to the side, pulling the condom off and tying it neatly before standing and making her way across the room to toss it in a waste basket. She was unabashed in her nudity, tangled hair falling down the curve of her back. She stretched in the middle of the room with her back turned to him, reaching her arms up to the ceiling and rolling her shoulders.

Curling onto his side, Castiel reached for her when she turned back around, a gentle smile on her face. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth on a yawn, padding back over to the bed and laying next to him, face to face. She started to tug a blanket over their nude bodies, but Castiel didn’t want her to cover up. He still wanted to run his hands over her body, to observe the way she moved, slender limbs and pink flushed skin.

She was both familiar and foreign to him. A human body, with two arms and two legs, warm skin and breath. But her waist curved in and her hips flared out, cheeks smooth and lips plush. The swell of her breasts sank into her chest when she lay on her back and pressed against each other when she rolled onto her side. There was a small line of a crease from her belly button at the small part of her waist, a gentle curve out of her belly. Her body was dimensional and kinetic, all soft sweeping lines flowing into each other, it fascinated him.

He paused her hand with the blanket at her hip, craning his neck forward to kiss her lips. “Let me see you.”

"It’s chilly."

"I’ll keep you warm."

Scooting closer, pushing a leg between hers and pulling her towards him, he lay with one arm curled under his head and the other reaching around Meg to stroke up her back and down her side. Brushing the hair off her face, tracing the shell of her ear with the pad of his thumb bumping over the safety pins there, he watched her watching him. Meg had an arm folded under her head, her free arm tucked in the space between them with her hand splayed over his chest.

He tilted his head forward to kiss her, then pulled back to catch some new detail of her body with his eyes, then she tilted forward to kiss him and pulled back to regard him as well. They didn’t speak in the soft lull, understanding each other in new ways. There was tight constriction in his chest and it felt like his throat was too swollen to swallow, or even breath well. Castiel didn’t want to name it. He was in unfamiliar territory. The swell of affection he felt for Meg had gone beyond warmth and arousal, it was something too vast to encompass and too deep to plumb. He didn’t want to tell her, because he was too logical and she was too cynical.

Yet he longed to understand. He couldn’t leave this physical reaction to a mental state un-assessed, it had been escalating slowly for weeks and he couldn’t quite tell where the origin was. Perhaps it was when he kissed her on a roof and she unlocked so many new doors in his psyche. It had been humming lowly in the corner of his mind, and he tried to bury it, but it was swarming him now and he needed to understand.

Settling his hand lightly on her hip Castiel asked quietly, “Meg, have you ever loved someone?”

She frowned at him, lips down turned and brow creased, her body tensing under his hand.

"Oh no."

"What?"

"Cas, don’t tell me you’re making the rookie mistake of mixing up sex and love. You’re smarter than that."

"That’s not what I meant. "

“Oh? So what brought that on?”

"I don’t know. I’m not sure I understand. I’ve never felt like I do around you, it’s confusing."

"There’s a lot of different kinds of love, really. Trying to boil it down to a formula doesn’t work. I love my dad and my brother, in the way you love your family. I love Ruby like a best friend. Romantic love is….. I don’t know, it’s kind of a joke."

"A joke? What do you mean?"

Meg sighed and scrunched her nose up, rolling her eyes and tapping her nails against his chest.

"I guess it probably exists, but people are so desperate to be accepted, they fall for the first thing that can give them that illusion, and this notion is so pervasive, it’s like fucking everywhere, that one of the necessary aspects of having a fulfilling life is in finding your other half and falling in love and all that sappy shit. It’s just shoved in our faces so much, I don’t know what’s genuine and what’s not."

Castiel slid his hand up her side and around the back of her neck, fingers branching up into her hair. He leaned across the space to press his lips to hers, wanting to erase the frown he’d put there, the contempt in her voice was apparent. He thought it was strange though, that she would have so much passion in the negative, but there were a lot of things Meg rebelled against it seemed. She sighed out a breath she was holding, lips parted, eyes fluttering shut when he kissed her. Her hand on his chest slid down, stroking his hip.

She nipped him and pulled back, reaching up to play with his short hair.

"I’m probably going to regret asking, but what are you thinking about, what makes you ask about that now?"

"I find myself thinking about you a lot, and you’ve made me re-evaluate a lot of things. But it’s, it’s not what thoughts I have, there’s a physical sensation when I think about you that’s something other than lust or friendship. Sometimes, I’m afraid I like you too much because it hurts."

Meg narrowed her eyes at him for a second before she was rolling away and tipping her head back in laughter. It was short and breathy, but Castiel was confused.

"What?"

"Go figure you could explain love in a way that doesn’t make me want to vomit in my mouth."

Castiel squinted at her.

"When you like something so much it hurts. That’s uh, maybe it’s just obsession Cas."

“I am obsessed with every part of you.”

"Maybe that is… you know…"

"Hm?"

Meg had that pinched frown on her face again.

"You shouldn’t love me."

"Why not?"

"I’ll just hurt you."

"Isn’t it supposed to be worth it?"

"I’m not so sure."

"I don’t know if I have a choice in the matter."

"Of course you do."

Castiel pushed up on his elbow, leaning over Meg as she rolled onto her back. One hand on her shoulder ghosting down the curve of a breast and resting on the soft of her belly that moved with her breath, he lay half on her and kissed her ear. Pressed cheek to cheek to cheek, he whispered, “I think I love you.”

Meg curled a hand at the back of his neck, holding him there where he couldn’t see her face. Her words were barely an exhalation, “I might love you too.”

He braced both his hands on the bed bracketing her shoulders and pushed up enough to see a small smile curving in the corners of her lips when she brought a hand up the space between their bodies and pressed a single finger to her lips in a universal ‘shh’ gesture, as though this was to be a secret between them. 

So he was quiet, and he would hold their secret. He would hold it close to himself and try not to expose it to her. And she could have her own secret. He would press his affection into her skin with his hands and breathe his love into her mouth, and he would keep the words of this knowledge close to himself. Words were always inadequate. Instead they lay quietly together and touched skin drying chill in the air, goose flesh rising under his fingertips on Meg’s arm. He pressed kisses to her cheeks while she circled her hand over the small of his back. 

It was too soon that she was nudging him away, rising and putting her clothes on again. Nearly four o’clock in the morning. Castiel rose, stretching stiff muscles while Meg watched him, and dressed again. His hands kept finding their way to her body while they made their way outside and drove back into town, flitting to her hips, tucking her hair back, resting on her thigh. Meg kissed him goodbye, and lifted a single finger to her lips again as he opened the car door. 

It was decidedly more miserable to climb onto the sun room roof at the tail end of December. But Castiel was still suffused with a pleasant lightness that hummed in his body. He quietly shuffled around his room making everything was in it’s usual order before collapsing in bed for a grand total of two hours of sleep. He still had a difficult time quieting his mind enough to fall asleep.

That Saturday Castiel woke feeling refreshed and still light headed with contentment. He had never placed much stock in the societal importance imposed on losing one’s virginity, but then again, that might not be the part about last night that had him smiling faintly to himself all morning. Balthazar had a sly knowing smile and Castiel wondered if his brother actually somehow knew about his clandestine activities, or if he was simply too good at reading Castiel.

At least Balthazar didn’t pester him with questions when Castiel helped review the essays his brother was still writing for college applications. Hester and Raphael had both offered to help Balthazar with his applications, but he seemed to value Castiel’s opinion more, despite the fact that he was younger.

After he had helped Balthazar for most of the morning, Castiel spent the afternoon learning to crochet with Hael and Hannah. The both of them were participating in a school drive to crochet hats and scarves for the homeless over Christmas break. They had attempted to recruit everyone in the house to help, managing to get promises of a few hats from Naomi and Rachel. Castiel had offered his services, although he knew nothing about crochet, but once he had the basics down a scarf was surprisingly easy. He enjoyed listening to his sisters talk about school and their friends while they sat around working together.

He hadn’t seen Michael for most of the day, which wasn’t much of a surprise. When his brother was at home on the weekends and not in the office, he still spent his time in his study with whatever work he had brought home with him. Castiel didn’t even know in detail what sort of work his father had done, that Michael and Raphael did. It was some sort of ad agency business. It was boring. But he had to admit it was suiting, his family was very good at manipulating appearances. Michael did surface for a family dinner though, which was uneventful and pleasant.

Castiel was scraping plates off into the sink with the garbage disposal to rinse and load them into the dishwasher when Michael cleared his throat, hovering in the doorway. Wiping his hands off on a towel, Castiel turned his attention to his brother.

"I’d like to see you in my study when you’re finished here."

Michael turned and retreated without another word, no indication given as to why. Castiel, of course, immediately assumed the worse, the pleasant looseness of his body clenching tight with anxiety. He replayed the events of the past month in his mind while he finished the dishes and braced himself. Making his way up to Michael’s study, he could muster no regret for his actions.Taking a deep breath outside the solid wood door, he knocked three times.

“Come in.”


	9. Open defiance

Castiel entered the study and shut the door behind him, remaining standing just inside the door with his arms at his side. Michael was sitting behind his desk, setting aside a stack of papers. He gestured to the chair in front of the desk.

"Sit down, Castiel."

Castiel pulled it out and sat down, hands in his lap. If Michael decided he should sit, this would be a long conversation. Castiel was tense, the usual nervousness he felt alone with his brother already simmering into something more akin to anger. He looked at a point on the wall over his brother’s shoulder, where a large clock sat ticking away the time, and steadied his breathing.

"How has your Christmas break been?"

Castiel looked at his brother, who had a tight forced smile on his face.

"It’s been nice. I’m sure you’ll like to know, Balthazar is almost finished with all his college applications."

Michael nodded once. “Good. Thank you for helping him, I don’t know why he didn’t want Raphael’s assistance.”

Castiel shrugged, just a lopsided push of one shoulder.

Michael continued, “I wanted to wait until you’d finished the semester at school. I’ve already arranged for you to attend your senior year at St Augustine’s, but I’ve considered having you sent there next semester as well. They’re willing to make the arrangements.”

The name of the school wasn’t familiar, and Castiel wasn’t certain why Michael would be moving him to a different school in any case. “St Augustine’s?”

"Yes. It’s a boarding school. In upstate New York ."

Castiel stiffened in his chair, narrowing his eyes at Michael. He was going to be sent away. Castiel wasn’t certain if his brother was punishing him, or just getting rid of a nuisance.

"Why?"

"Don’t be so foolish as to think I don’t know about your continued disobedience. The phone calls, skipping chess club, sneaking out of the house."

"Are you spying on me?"

"All of your siblings are concerned for you Castiel."

"So you’re going to ship me halfway across the country?"

Anxiety was starting to spike in his chest when he heard Michael speaking again, he didn’t want to leave, not when he’d just found something worth holding on to, not when he still had so many questions.

"You need the discipline they can provide, the guidance. You can spend your second semester here if you can behave, but you will be attending your senior year at St. Augustine’s.”

"No."

Michael sat up even straighter, leaning forward in his chair, shoulders pushed back.

"Excuse me?"

Castiel shook his head, he was determined to stand his ground, to speak up for himself. He wanted something for himself, and he didn’t even think it was that selfish or unreasonable. For the first time, ever, he defied his brother to his face.

"No, I don’t want to go. You can’t force me to go."

Michael narrowed his eyes and glared at Castiel over the desk.

"I am your legal guardian Castiel. I can, and I will. This is in your best interest."

"I won’t go."

He was surprised at how steady his voice was, when his hands were trembling in his lap. His pulse was beating rabbit quick and Castiel knew this was a turning point. He wasn’t certain how severe the consequences would be for defying Michael openly, but so long as he stayed here, so long as he could finish school, once he graduated he didn’t have to listen to Michael anymore. Castiel didn’t want to fight him, he didn’t want this, but he wasn’t going to blindly obey Michael’s every order. Not any more. He just wished he knew where the middle ground lay, because he only seemed able to find the side of the landscape where he either bowed his head to Michael or the side where he turned his back. There had to be other options, if he looked hard enough.

There was something seeping in to Michael’s voices, just fringing the edges with disdain.

"What’s happened to you? Ever since father’s death, you don’t respect my authority, do you believe if he is not here anymore you can do as you please?"

"He was barely a part of our lives anymore when he was alive."

"I will not tolerate you to speak ill of our father."

Castiel clenched his jaw, sitting silent.

"Is it that girl then? If she’s the cause of your willful disobedience, then it is all the more reason to remove you from the situation."

"Michael, I -", the words pushed themselves up from the back of his throat, still feeling new on his tongue and terrifying. He shouldn’t tell Michael this, his brother would see it as weakness, might use it against him. He knew he shouldn’t say it but he didn’t know what else to say and the best Castiel could hope for was perhaps pity. "I love her."

His brother stood and rounded the desk then, standing in front of Castiel. Looking up at him, arms crossed over his chest and stern disapproval on his face, only made Castiel more certain in his conviction that he needed to do this. To be strong, and make a stand.

"You might be infatuated, but you don’t know what love is. You’re still a child."

Castiel stood, challenging. “Don’t you dare invalidate me because of my age.”

Michael scoffed. “Castiel, I was in college when you were adopted into this family. You were just a toddler still in diapers because you wouldn’t stop wetting the bed.”

"I don’t care how many years you have on me Michael. Have you ever loved someone? All you do is work. You’re too absorbed with yourself to give affection to someone else."

Michael grabbed him by the arm, voice cold and humming with something dangerous, something hurting and ready to lash out. “Don’t presume to know about me. When mother died I moved back into this house and I gave up everything I had to take care of this family, because I knew father wouldn’t. I’ve given everything. To protect this family. To protect you.”

Castiel could see the open wound, and he prodded at it.

"Why? Did you think it would make father love you more?"

Michaels lips thinned as he scowled at Castiel, grasp on his arm tightening so hard it hurt. “We’re not going to discuss this. You don’t get a say in the matter. And I’m going to ask the school to take you next semester.”

Castiel tried to twist away but it only made Michael tighten his grip. He wasn’t as big as his brother, or as strong.

"Why do you hate it that I’ve found someone who makes me happy? You can’t hate her that much because she’s an atheist. Do you?"

"I know those kinds of people, they are dangerous. She will lead you astray."

Castiel shook his head, he refused to listen to Michael’s poisoned words anymore.

"She’s never made me do anything I don’t want."

"She’s tricked you into believing her sick lies."

Castiel put a hand on Michael’s wrist, tugging him, silently pleading that he loosen his hold.

"What lies?"

"Just look at her Castiel, look at how damaged she is. Women like that - she knows that you come from a good family, she’s seducing you, she’ll trick you into getting her pregnant and she’ll be a burden on you for the rest of your life -"

"That’s outrageous."

Castiel spat the words at his brother. Michael could taunt him and belittle him all he wanted, but Castiel refused to let his brother speak so poorly of Meg when he barely even knew her. He used it to fuel his indignant anger, pulling himself to standing up higher and tensing in his brother’s grip.

"You’re making a mistake that’s going to impact the rest of your life, look how far you’ve fallen for her already, you’re changing Castiel and not for the better, I won’t let you get dragged down by some Godless white trash whore - "

"Fuck you!"

He was quivering with a rage that kept him rooted there and too furious to think rationally. Michael released him, and for a second Castiel thought his brother might walk away. More likely, he’d take his belt off, and Castiel would be punished, and they’d go back to their quiet tense disregard of one another. Castiel expected that. He knew how to deal with that.

Instead, Michael raised his hand and Castiel didn’t even understand until he was backhanded across the cheek so hard it sent him sideways and he fell, knocking his head against the heavy desk. He was reeling on the floor, pushing himself up, when he felt Michael grab him and haul him to his feet. His brother was livid. Castiel had never seen wrath on his face like this before.

"Don’t you ever say that to me."

There was a bitter sharp taste in Castiel’s mouth and he realized it was blood when he felt the throbbing sting in his tongue, he must have bit it. He felt woozy and nauseated, bile at the back of his throat, and he was limp in Michael’s hold for a second until he lashed out the only way he knew how, with his words, trying to dig and find all the sore spots his brother covered up with his controlled demeanor.

"At least I know you’re capable of feeling something, is that all you have Michael, hate?"

His brother was pushing him back, crowding him against the tall sturdy shelves that lined the study. Castiel’s vision kept flicking and there was an erratic quick pulse of panic in his chest. He’d never seen Michael like this before, he’d never had it directed at him although he’d heard the fighting before. Castiel didn’t know what happened behind closed doors in their house between his elder brothers, he didn’t know what was going to happen to him. He couldn’t stop goading his brother now, not now that that he’d started. Now that he’d seen this side of his brother and it made him even more certain for the choices he’d made and the questions he’d started to ask himself.

"I love you Castiel, I love all our brothers and sisters, I won’t let you throw your life away."

Licking his swollen tongue against bloody teeth, Castiel taunted, “Do you love me like you love Luc? You don’t get to decide what my life is worth or what I do with it. What if I wanted to start wearing dresses like him, would you throw me out, could you love me then?”

Michael snarled, he was something twisted and vicious and dangerously alive, and Castiel didn’t recognize him. His brother shook him, both hands gripping his upper arms and digging into him, shaking him until his head cracked back on the wood shelf and bright pain burst with spots in his eyes at the back of his head. The world tasted like copper and was blurred in his eyes.

"You know nothing about Lucifer. You don’t know what kind of monster he is. You don’t know what he did to our father, the pain he caused our mother."

"So tell me. Was it because he wasn’t what father wanted him to be, was it because he didn’t accept the dogma of this family?"

"It was because he was a twisted, sick soul and he couldn’t see it himself and he wouldn’t let us help him. Which is exactly what you are doing."

"Maybe he wasn’t the one who was sick."

Michael hit him again, the same backhanded strike on the same cheek, a stinging layer over where it was already throbbing. It sent Castiel sideways again but he wasn’t in Michael’s grip anymore so he turned and stumbled towards the door. He scrabbled at the door as Michael stepped towards him, flinging it open and running down the hallway, almost tripping down the steps. He didn’t know if any of his brothers and sisters were watching, he didn’t care. Michael was yelling at him furiously but he didn’t even register the words. 

Castiel wrenched open the front door and ran into the night. The street lights blurred in his vision as he ran aimlessly, feet pounding against the sidewalk and when they started to turn numb he realized he wasn’t even wearing shoes. At least he had socks on. Stopping, Castiel looked down at himself. It was snowing lightly outside, turning slick and slushy on the sidewalks, and he was wearing socks. At least he had a sweater on, although he was shivering in the cold air. The sweat he had broken running turned clammy and stuck to him when he started to feel the chill. He didn’t even recognize where he was.

Fumbling in his pocket, Castiel was relieved to find his phone. Without giving it a thought, he dialed Meg. He stammered through the conversation, somewhere distant from himself. Meg told him to get to a cross roads and give her the intersection, so he did. When he stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest, teeth chattering, one whole side of his face still burning hot, he started to process what happened. He was standing on a street corner waiting for Meg to pick him up. She would come, and she would know what to do. 

Not too long later, he recognized her black hearse coming down the road. She pulled up to the side and swung the door open. Castiel sat gingerly in his seat, skin tingling with pins and needles at the sudden temperature shift when he shut the door and was engulfed in warmth. Meg put the car in park and leaned over the bench seat, pulling his face towards her. 

“Holy fucking shit, what happened?”

“I disagreed with Michael.”

“That kinda seems like a fucking understatement. Shit. Do we need to go to the hospital, is anything broken?”

Castiel shook his head, he didn’t think it could be that bad, Michael only hit him twice. Of course he fell against the desk, and was knocked against the book shelf. It was still a little fuzzy around the edges, he wasn’t sure what happened and what he imagined happening. 

“No, no it’s fine. I just fell against a desk.”

“Oh, you fell?”

“Yes.”

“Michael pushed you?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.”

Meg pushed the hair back off his forehead, and her fingers were red. Castiel didn’t know why her fingers were red.

“This looks pretty bad Cas, it might need to get stitched up.”

He shook his head. 

Meg pressed a light kiss to his lips and sat back in her seat, putting the car in drive. 

“Ok, I’m going to take you home and clean you up, and we’ll see how bad it is.”

Castiel nodded, sinking back into his seat and curling his toes in the stiff wet socks. 

Meg drove silently and he was grateful she didn’t press him with questions. She asked if he minded if she smoked, which he didn’t. The familiar scent of her clove cigarettes was relaxing. He reached across the seat and held his hand up to her. Meg passed him the cigarette. He could smoke without coughing now. She lit up another one, holding it in between her lips, and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel until she was pulling up to the funeral home. 

Stubbing her cigarette out in a tray in the car, Castiel did the same and followed her around to the side of the house. They made their way quietly into a side door, Meg removed her shoes and Castiel took his sopping socks off, and they padded silently upstairs to her bedroom. Meg sat him down on her bed and told him to stay still, leaving for a few minutes and coming back with a wash cloth and a small box. Setting it on the bed beside him, she opened it and Castiel realized it was a first aid kit of sorts. 

Meg held his chin cupped in one hand and dabbed at his face with the wash cloth. She was frowning, her brow wrinkled, and her eyes looked angry framed by the dark black lines. After she had cleaned him, she dabbed something on his forehead that made it sting, and rubbed an ointment along his cheek. She put a butterfly bandaid on his forehead.

He hadn’t really tried to look at himself, in the mirror in her car or in her bedroom, but after she’d cleaned him and he saw the pink stained washcloth, he was curious. Looking out of the corner of his eye at the mirror in her room, there was a small gash across one side of his forehead and his cheek had a purple epicenter high on his cheek that faded to reds and pinks down most of that half of his face. Raising a hand to the back of his head, he prodded the sensitive swollen spot where he’d hit the shelf, but it wasn’t sticky or anything, just tender. 

Meg sat cross legged on her bed and gave him a supremely displeased, ‘you’re going to do exactly what I say’, look. 

“All right. Spill. You’re going to tell me exactly what’s going on.”

Castiel squinted at her. He wasn’t going to get out of this. 

“Michael told me he was going to remove me from school and send me to a boarding school in New York.”

“Damn.”

“I told him I wasn’t going to go.”

“Well I’m proud you grew a pair, but fuck, he got that angry because you didn’t want to be his little puppet?”

“I told him I loved you, that was probably a mistake. The discussion turned to, some familial matters I wasn’t aware were still sore points for him.”

“Yeah?”

Castiel didn’t want to go over it again. He would in his head, many more times over, parse it and pull it apart and study the bones but he doubted he’d find answers there. He looked at the dried rose hanging from Meg’s mirror.

“I’ve never seen him so livid before. I - for the first time I was afraid, because, he lost his temper, it’s like he wasn’t in control, and … what I saw in his face … before - like with our father - he told me how many lashes I was going to get and I took off my shirt and turned around and then it happens and it’s over. It’s predictable. I know how to deal with it. But, he just hit me, and he kept shaking me, and that’s never, I didn’t know if he was going to stop.”

“Jesus. Why was it different this time?”

Castiel paused and frowned, what was different, he knew already. Sharp edged and too clear, he knew what made his brother loose his temper. “I challenged him, I questioned what he was doing. I never do. I looked at him, and, I told him he was wrong.” 

“That is ten different kinds of fucked up. You can’t go back there Cas.”

“Where can I go?”

They were interrupted by a soft knock at Meg’s door. She rolled her eyes and stood, crossing over to the door and opening it a crack. Castiel was still sitting on the bed and he could see a sliver of her brother Tom through the door.

"You didn’t tell me you were bringing a friend home."

"Look, he needs somewhere to stay tonight."

"Not with dad out of the house."

"Whatever, you left me alone last night to go chase tail to some concert."

"Yeah, well, I’m here tonight and if dad comes home in the morning to find you and your boyfriend shacking up, it’s coming out of my skin."

Meg glanced over at him, one hand on her hip, before looking back to her brother.

"I can’t take him home."

"That’s not my problem."

Castiel didn’t want her brother to know, he didn’t want anyone to know, not until he could figure it out for himself. Standing he stepped next to Meg by the door, touching her arm.

"Meg I can figure something else out."

"No I’m not letting you go back there."

The door was pushed wider and Tom was looking at him with a frown on his face.

"Shit, are you all right, what the fuck happened?"

Castiel turned his face away from Tom, embarrassed he had forgotten how easily he’d be given away with bruises on his face. “It’s nothing.”

Tom tossed his hands up and sighed exasperated. “Dammit, Meg, should I be expecting the cops to come by?”

"Oh fuck you Tom, that happened one time."

Castiel pulled Meg back. “Please, don’t fight. I’ll figure something out.”

Tom was scrutinizing him. “Hey, if you’re in trouble, just, tell me what’s going on, okay?”

Meg looked at him, arching an eyebrow and she was goading him. “Yeah Cas, is there something you should tell my brother? He might be able to help.”

"No. There’s nothing you need to know."

Meg rolled her eyes. “Tom, give us a few minutes okay.”

Tom backed off. “Sure. But he can’t stay here tonight.”

Meg closed the door. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest until Tom’s quiet footsteps disappeared down the hall.

"Okay, what the fuck?"

"What?"

"Come on Cas, why don’t you want to tell anyone, are you trying to protect your family? Their reputation?”

"Yes."

"Why?"

Her voice was incredulous, soft brown eyes staring at him and it felt like she was pinning to him to the wall and taking him apart. Castiel narrowed his eyes at her and frowned.

"They’re my family."

"Fuck that. If your brother is going to hurt you like this, you shouldn’t protect him. He doesn’t deserve it. You need to protect yourself, Cas."

“It’s not just about me, or Michael, it’s about my family, it’s about all of them.”

Meg glared at him for a minute before huffing and turning to pack up the first aid kit. She grumbled to herself and moved around the room, Castiel standing there bare foot and confused. Finally she pulled out her cell phone and flopped back on to her bed, where he followed and lay down next to her, a hand reaching out and resting on her belly. 

“You could probably stay at Sam and Dean’s, me and Ruby hang there a lot. What do you think?”

Castiel had never been to their house before, but he liked the Winchester’s.

“It’s late. Do you think they would mind?”

“Nah, actually Dean is probably at work, I’ll call.”

Castiel nodded, scooting closer to Meg and curling his arm around her side, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. She smiled at him, holding the phone to her ear.

“Hey, Sam, how’s it going? ….. not to bad. Listen, is Dean there? ….. yeah I figured he might be, but I kind of need a favor. Do you think Cas could stay over with you tonight? ….. I can’t really say, you’ll have to talk to him, do you want me to …. yeah ….. yeah okay……. sure, thanks Sam.”

Meg hung up and set her phone on her chest, reaching over to push her fingers through Castiel’s hair. It was calming, and he closed his eyes. 

“Sam’s going to call Dean at work and ask him.”

“Thank you Meg.”

“Course.”

She kissed him softly and he felt the tension seeping from his muscles. He hadn’t realized his whole body had been so clenched up. After a few minutes her phone rang. 

“Sam?…. hey… yeah? …… sure that sounds great, thanks again …… uh-huh, we’ll be there in like, twenty….. bye.”

Meg turned onto her side, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

“All right, you can stay with Sam tonight, I don’t think I’ll be able to stay out, but I can come by tomorrow. I have work, but, I’ll wake up early. How does that sound?”

“I really appreciate this Meg.”

“Yeah, well, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell my brother what’s going on.”

“Just let me think about it.”

Meg scowled at him, but she stood and rummaged through her closet for another sweater, a large black thing that fit on Castiel. It was comfy and smelled like her. She gave him socks that were rainbow colored. Taking him down stairs, she pulled him into the kitchen and rooted around in a closet by the back door until she emerged with a pair of old sneakers. 

“I think these are dad’s. Do they look about your size?”

Castiel took them from her, and he was putting them on when Tom came in. 

“So. Still not gonna spill the beans?”

Meg was pulling her coat back. “I’m going to take him to a friend’s house, I’ll be back in a bit.”

“I’ll be waiting up for you.”

Meg flipped him off, and Tom rolled his eyes before turning his attention to the contents of the fridge. 

They were back in the hearse, and Meg gave him another lit cigarette as they pulled away. They drove back towards town, but after they got to the industrial district Meg turned towards a section of town Castiel didn’t go through very often. 

It was past eleven by the time they rolled up to a small, squat house. It was a tiny box of a house on a tiny lawn in a row of tiny houses. The neighborhood was poor and run down. The asphalt of the roads was cracked and pitted. There were houses with boarded up windows and doors. They had passed one with smoke damage licking up the siding from busted out windows. The lawns were scattered with trash, scraps, broken down cars. But the house they pulled up to, the lawn was tidy and the light blue paint was neat. There was no driveway, just ruts in the yard.

Meg parked and turned off the car. “You sure you’re going to be fine?”

"It’s fine. Thank you, Meg, I don’t know what I would have done."

"Don’t worry about it. Look, I know it’s not the best neighborhood but you’re safe with Sam and Dean."

Castiel nodded and followed her out of the car to the front porch that sloped and sagged under their feet, but the light was on and Sam was smiling when he opened the door. When his gaze turned to Castiel, his smile faltered a little, but he was waving them inside.

"Hey Meg, Cas, how’s it going?"

Castiel offered his own weak smile. “It’s going all right.”

Meg plopped down on the ratty brown couch in the small living room. It was a tiny room that could barely hold a couch, table and tv much less the three people moving around the furniture. To the right through an open door Castiel saw a bedroom, strewn with clothes, mattress on the floor. Across the room from where he just came in was a short hallway that opened to a kitchen. Sam was leaning against the wall. Castiel sat on the couch next to Meg.

Sam nodded at him. “You can have the couch or Dean’s bed tonight. He’s not going to be back from work until six.”

Castiel would feel too awkward sleeping in someone else’s bed. He felt awkward asking for their couch. It was a sad, lumpy old thing. “The couch would be great. Thank you. For everything, Sam, for letting me stay here and -“

"Don’t worry about it Cas. Really, we don’t mind. You can stay here as long as you like. Well, maybe not quite, dad’ll be back in like, I think two months, so."

Castiel remembered Meg telling him that John Winchester was a trucker, that he took a lot of longer distance hauls when Dean was old enough - legal enough - to look after Sam. Looking around the small cramped house and Sam standing alone while his brother was out at work, Castiel might have thought it sad that their father left them here. But his own father had been gone for months at a time leaving the children to their own devices too. He just had more siblings to look after him, who were far older than the four year gap between Sam and Dean.

"I don’t think I can hide from my family for quite that long."

Meg sighed and put her phone back in her pocket.

"I really should get going Cas. I’m sorry to drop you and run."

"Don’t be."

"I’ll be back in the morning. I’ll come by before work, ok?"

Castiel nodded, standing to follow Meg to the door.

"Thank you, again, I’m sorry to bring this to you."

"Seriously, don’t, don’t go thinking your a burden or any shit like that Cas ok, you need help you can always ask me. We’ll figure it out."

She looped an arm over his shoulder and cupped the back of his neck, pulling him down and kissing him. It actually calmed his nerves, that brief contact, that comfort of her lips against his soft and warm. He found it easier to give her a small smile on her way out, waving from the door when she turned on the lights of her hearse.

Sam was shuffling from one foot to another, smiling self-consciously at him.

"So, are you hungry?"

Castiel shrugged. He didn’t want to take their food, he was already imposing.

Sam just turned and led him to the kitchen anyway.

"We’ve got some Lucky Charms, trust me the sugar rush will help you feel better."

Castiel found himself gently pushed into a battered wood chair at the kitchen table that was crammed in a corner next to the fridge. Sam was getting two bowls down from the cupboards and filling them with cereal.

"I really don’t want to impose."

Sam turned at him, his brow creased and Castiel didn’t know why.

"Dude, you know you’re my friend right?"

"Am I?"

"Yeah, don’t be an idiot. This is what friends do, ok, take care of each other. I don’t know what kind of friends you’ve had before, but really, a spot on the couch and a bowl of cereal isn’t a hardship, man."

Castiel nodded, something tight in his throat, and he still felt so raw he wasn’t sure what to do with this unexpected display of kindness. He’d never been in a situation like this before, had never even given thought to it. He had run away from home. He had run out in the middle of the night and he was hiding at a friend’s house. His face still throbbed dully, and his stomach felt like it had inverted itself. He was sick and tired and nervous and overwhelmed. But when Sam set a bowl of Lucky Charms down in front of him and sat across from him to dig enthusiastically into his own bowl, Castiel felt safe. 

They ate quietly, Castiel noticed Sam staring at him and quickly averting his eyes when Castiel caught him. Sam was one year younger than him, but Castiel felt there were probably certain things the youngest Winchester knew much more about. Morosely swirling his spoon in the discolored milk left in the bottom of his bowl, Castiel figured he could at least offer Sam an explanation, for being so accommodating and understanding. He knew that Meg would not have told Sam anything about his home situation, for which he was grateful.

"It was my brother."

Sam looked up, swallowing a large bite of marshmallows. He had systematically picked all the non marshmallows out first.

"Oh. You want to talk about it?"

"Not really. I figured I owed you an explanation."

"Nah, it’s all right. I’m hear to listen if you want, but you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want.”

Castiel nodded, grateful.

"Hey, it’s not too late, do you wanna play board games?"

"What kind of games?"

"Oh man, I bet you would be real good at Scrabble. Dean doesn’t like to play with me cause I always kick his ass."

"I do like Scrabble.”

Sam smiled and gulped down the rest of the milk in his bowl before shooting up, taking Castiel’s bowl from him and setting them in the sink. Then he put a pot of water on the stove and disappeared into the hallway. Castiel heard him rummaging around before he appeared again with a beaten up Scrabble box taped on the corners. They sat and played, and somehow Sam found a topic of discussion they could both enjoy - schoolwork. Castiel actually did quite like school, minus the social atmosphere and the pressure, he liked to learn. Sam seemed eager to talk and ask questions about things he hadn’t learned yet but was curious about.

When the pot of water on the stove started boiling, Sam pulled down mugs and shook out instant coco packets into them. It was pure sugar. And Castiel had to admit, the sugar high did lift his spirits somewhat. They lost track of the score of the game while they chatted and drank coco.

There was a loud knock at the door, and Castiel glanced to the stove to see that it was almost midnight. Sam scrunched his nose up and stood.

"Stay here."

Castiel did technically stay in the kitchen, but he trailed to the hallway door in time to see Ruby pouncing on Sam. She caught sight of him, so he waved to her.

"Hey Cas, I haven’t seen you round in a while man, how’s it hanging?"

Sam came back to the kitchen with a blush on his cheeks and Ruby stomped in, unwinding a scarf from her neck.

"I’m well, how have you been?"

Ruby’s eyebrows shot up when she saw Cas in the kitchen light.

"Yo, wicked bruises man, you get in a fight?"

Castiel wasn’t sure what Sam’s face was trying to convey when he gestured at Ruby.

"Something like that."

Ruby nodded at him, shrugged, and moved on. Sam sat back down at the table, and Castiel followed his lead, sitting back in his chair. Ruby sat on Sam’s lap.

Sam curled an arm around her waist. “What’re you doing here?” There was concern in his voice, but Ruby brushed it off.

"Mom went out with Eve, again."

"She’ll raise a fit when you’re not there in the morning."

"She won’t and you know it. I’ll probably be back before her, and if I’m not, I doubt she’ll even notice me missing."

Castiel wasn’t certain about Ruby’s relationship with her mother, or her mother’s girlfriend. He didn’t want to pry, and felt like this conversation was going somewhere he didn’t want to sit and listen to. But then Ruby was grabbing Sam’s coco and helping herself, smiling when he smudged the frothy mustache from it off her lip. She giggled and tipped her head down to kiss him.

"Dean at work tonight?"

"Yeah."

"And you dorks are just hanging out playing Scrabble."

Ruby shook her head and plucked a few wooden tiles from Sam’s holder, spelling out ‘Boob’ on the board. Castiel tried not to smile as he hid it behind the rim of his coco glass. He considered his tiles, but he didn’t have a very good counter word. They were coming to the end of the game anyway.

"You could always join us for a game."

She smirked at him, “Extra points for dirty words?”

Sam huffed a short laugh, “Of course.”

Ruby slid out of his lap and sat in her own chair, pulling a holder out of the box for herself. “You’re going down boys.”

Much to Sam and Ruby’s surprise, Castiel was more creative with his dirty words. He had to admit, it was a fun distraction from the things playing on loop in his head. He secured the game for himself when he managed to spell ‘quim’ over a tile with a triple word score. When it was one o’clock and the coco was long gone, they packed up the board and said their good nights.

Sam showed him the bathroom and gave him an extra tooth brush, for which Castiel was very grateful given how much sugar he’d eaten. He traced the outline of bruising on his cheek, still sore, and saw dark finger shaped bruises wrapped around his upper arm when his t-shirt sleeve moved. At least he didn’t have to go back to school for two more weeks. 

There were pillows and blankets piled on the couch when he’d finished in the bathroom, down to his boxers and undershirt. Castiel settled on the sagging old couch, the fabric was scratchy but it was warm under the blankets. He was exhausted mentally but still a little jittery from what Sam fed him. Castiel felt his cheeks flush - and embarrassingly enough, blood was going south as well - when he heard sex noises from the small nook of a bedroom behind the kitchen that was Sam’s. He could hear the bed frame creaking and scraping on the flooring, amongst Sam’s hushed ‘shhhh’s. It made him want to laugh, immaturely, but Castiel stifled it and rolled onto his side.

It was all so entirely abnormal in the usual context of Castiel’s life, but he found he wouldn’t mind if this became more his normal.


	10. Kindness

Castiel woke when he heard someone open a door. At first he wondered why someone was coming into his bedroom. Then he wondered when his bed had gotten so uncomfortable. Yawning, he started to wake up, groggily, and remembered why he was sleeping on a couch, why his face hurt, and why he was watching Dean try to quietly take off his shoes while he wobbled on one foot.

"Good morning."

Dean squawked and fell on his ass.

"Mornin’ Cas, sorry I was trying to be quiet."

He finished taking his shoes off on the floor, then hung his jacket up on a coat hook next to the front door that was over a small table with a bowl for keys and miscellany.

"That’s all right."

Sitting up and stretching his arms over his head, Castiel rolled his shoulders and touched his cheek lightly, prodded at the bandaid on his forehead.

"You need an ice pack for that?"

Taking his hand away, Castiel shook his head. “No, thank you.”

Dean was shuffling into the bedroom that was off of the living room. Castiel reached for his pants that had been folded neatly next to the couch over the shoes he had borrowed as well. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he checked it for messages. There were several missed calls from the home phone, and a text from Meg that she was coming by around seven thirty. Castiel wondered if it was safe to keep his phone on him. He knew there was gps in it, and he wasn’t certain how easy it was to track someone with them. He didn’t want to bring any trouble to Dean and Sam. There were calls he wanted to make later though, so he tried to put the worry to the back of his mind.

Dean came back shirtless, still wearing khaki pants with dirt stains over the knees, pulling on a plaid shirt. Castiel didn’t mean to look, but Dean was entirely unconcerned, scratching his belly and emptying the contents of his pockets onto the table be the door. Castiel was still wearing the rainbow socks Meg gave him, and he reached for the bulky hoody that she loaned him last night to pull on over his undershirt, to cover his arms.

"You want some dinner? Or, breakfast, I guess."

Dean plopped down onto the couch next to Castiel, rifling through a small stack of mail that had been on the table. His hair was mussed up and his eyes were bright and he seemed like it was the most normal thing in the world to come home to someone on his couch. But Dean was his friend too, wasn’t he. If Sam said this was all right, this what friends did for each other, Castiel figured that Dean was probably the person who taught him that.

"That would be appreciated."

"Cool, I think we got bisquick, I’ll make pancakes."

Dean stood and set the now opened mail back on the table, tossing ripped envelopes and ads in a small waste basket.

"Dean, thank you, for letting me stay here, and everything else."

"Of course Cas, you know you’re welcome here any time."

Castiel folded the blankets Sam had put out for him and draped them over the arm of the couch before following Dean into the kitchen. The first thing Dean did was start filling a small coffee pot on the counter. The kitchen was so small there was barely any room left on the counter next to the dish strainer, microwave, and coffee pot. Castiel sat at the table.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

"Nah. Friggin kitchen is so tiny you’d get in my way, no offense."

After the coffee pot was turned on, Dean was rummaging around for bowls and measuring cups, setting them on the table. Ruby showed up in the doorway from the kitchen to the back room, leaning against the frame and running her fingers through her messy hair. She was only wearing a tight white tank and a very skimpy black thong. Castiel wasn’t sure what to make of these people, as comfortable and casual around each other that they were. Of course, he was sitting there in socks and his boxers. But his pants had been damp and dirty the night before from running around in the snow. Dean ‘aha’d triumphantly as he pulled a box of bisquick out of the back of a cupboard. Then he turned to Ruby and leaned against the counter.

"What I tell you about the pants in the house policy Ruby?"

"Ungh. Cas isn’t wearing any pants."

"Cas has boxers on. If he was wiggling his little butt around the kitchen in a thong I’d tell him to put on pants too."

Ruby pouted and twisted herself around to look behind herself.

"It’s not little."

"Pants, Ruby."

"Hey you’re the one going for the pin up lumberjack look."

Dean snorted and started to button his shirt that was still open.

"I was sweaty from work. Look, you can wear boxers too if you want, it’s close enough to shorts to make me happy."

Ruby stuck her tongue out but turned back into Sam’s room. Castiel sat quietly at the table. Dean was pulling milk and eggs out of the fridge. Ruby came back with a pair of baggy superman boxers on, a bleary eyed Sam in tow behind her.

Sam grumbled, “Why am I up so early?”

Ruby tugged on the hem of his shirt. “Pancakes!”

Sam perked up, “Pancakes?”

Dean shook the box of bisquick. “Pancakes bitches.”

Sam and Ruby sat down at the table with Cas, all of their knees knocking together underneath, and he tried to tuck himself in close but there wasn’t much of anywhere to go. According to the clock on the stove, it was almost seven am.

Sam yawned and rubbed his eyes. “How’s work?”

Dean shrugged, standing by the table and measuring things out. “Same old, same old. There was a busted box of wet cat food in the truck, man that shit was rancid.”

Ruby scrunched her face up. “Ew.”

Dean cheerfully replied, “Yeah, there were maggots in it and everything.”

Sam was now scrunching his face up too. “Ungh, gross.”

Dean reached over and ruffled Sam’s hair. “Aw, I know you got a sensitive stomach Samantha.”

Sam swatted his hand away. “Whatever, jerk.”

Dean took his bowl over to the counter and set it in the strainer, starting to put away ingredients when there was a knock at the front door. When he went to answer, Sam got up and brought down four mugs for coffee. He poured one black and gave it to Ruby, put a little sugar in another and set it down in front of his own chair.

"How do you take it Cas?"

"A little sugar, please."

"Sure."

Sam handed him a cup with a spoon of sugar. When they heard the deep rumble of Benny’s voice from the living room, Sam emptied the coffee grinds into a trash can and started another pot.

Dean and Benny came into the kitchen, Benny smiling brightly with a hand on Dean’s hip. He saw Castiel and gave a wave.

"How’s it going brother?"

"All right, how are you?"

"I’m good."

Benny pulled Dean back against his chest, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

"Just come for a little mornin’ sugar before work.”

“After breakfast. You want pancakes?”

“I already ate, but you know I’m not going to turn down your cooking.”

Dean leaned back, craning his head around to press a kiss to Benny’s lips, before disentangling from his arms and measuring out more bisquick and milk. 

“I should just put a neon sign out front and start up my own diner.”

Benny pulled down a mug for coffee. “Now there’s an idea.”

Dean had only just returned to measuring out more ingredients to make pancakes for the whole crowd when there was a knock at the door. Castiel looked up shyly from his perch in the corner.

"I uh… Meg was going to come by this morning. If that’s all right. It’s probably her."

Dean shrugged, “It’s all good man, at least she doesn’t mooch off me more than that wench.”

Dean tipped his head towards Ruby who had stood to answer the door. “Whatever, I’m a joy to be around.”

Castiel eased himself out of his corner and the crowded confines of the kitchen to greet Meg. He stood stupidly shocked when he saw her shutting the front door behind herself in her work uniform. She was wearing khaki pants and a polo shirt with her long hair pulled up in a tidy pony tail. He almost didn’t recognize her.

"Well shit, don’t look so happy to see me."

"Meg. Sorry, I, you look different in your uniform."

"I swear, if you make one comment about my ass in these pants-"

"I like your….. ass."

Ruby was watching them like they were a bad soap opera. Castiel could feel his face flushing. Meg reached up and lightly touched around the bandaid on the cut on his forehead before tilting up on her toes to kiss his lips.

"You have a good night?"

There was a lot more behind the simple question, and Castiel hoped he conveyed more than his simple answer. “I did.”

Ruby wedged herself through the doorway past Castiel and back in to the kitchen. “Come on Meg, Dean’s making pancakes.”

"Dean-o, my boy, did I ever tell you your potential is wasted at Walmart?"

Dean was ladling out batter into a sizzling pan in neat little circles.

"And what exactly do you think my potential is?"

Benny was leaning against the counter next to Dean, almost hip to hip and sipping from a chipped coffee mug.

Meg pulled a mug out of the cupboard to get herself a cup. “You’d be a cute home maker.”

Dean snorted, and Benny beat him to an answer, “Darlin, I aint got the kind of money to make this one a kept boy.”

He swatted Dean on the backside, who turned around to level the whole kitchen audience with a glare.

Their banter was as light and easy as it usually was, no one paying any extra mind to Castiel or asking him questions. He managed to forget for several minutes that he didn’t do this every morning, sit in a warm kitchen with good friends and eat pancakes while everyone teased each other. His family wasn’t like this, people at school weren’t like this. Castiel liked it though. He knew his brothers would sneer at the small house, the scratched kitchen cupboards and the linoleum floor worn down in spots, how hard these people had to work to keep the stitches from popping. He thought it was admirable.

Meg ate a few pancakes plain standing and leaning against the wall. Castiel stood next to her, with a plate in one hand and dipped his pancakes in the syrup so he could eat them without a fork. Ruby, Sam and Benny sat at the table, while Dean perched on the counter and rested his feet in Benny’s lap. 

After Meg had finished her pancakes, she pulled Castiel down to kiss him and tell him she had to go work. He was glad that she had stopped by, even though it hadn’t even been for an hour. She promised to come back later though, after her shift. Dean waved off all of Castiel’s concern. 

Castiel went out to Meg’s car with her, giving her a kiss goodbye and wishing her a good day at work. He assumed he would spend the day with Sam while Dean slept, or find ways to amuse himself. It would certainly be necessary to contact a few of his siblings that might have advice for him. Anna was the first he thought of, but Gabriel might be of help as well.

As soon as he went back in to the Winchester’s house and closed the door behind him, Dean was tugging him into the bedroom off the living room that was his. He had shut the door quietly behind him, and Castiel found his pulse suddenly quickening. It wasn’t that he distrusted Dean, but he was set to a higher level of nerves than usual, anxious in the uncertainty and precarious nature of his situation.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck as if self conscious before asking, “Do you have your phone with you Cas?”

His brow furrowed as he reached into his pocket for the cell phone he had. “Yes. Oh. I was worried that my brother might track with me with the gps in it, do you think that’s a concern?”

"What? Oh, shit, wait, do you think he would actually do that?"

"I wouldn’t put it past him."

Dean frowned momentarily and shook his head. “Don’t worry about that, you’re safe with me and Sam. I was just going to say that uh, you should probably take a few photos of your face.”

Castiel was suddenly self conscious again, feeling the dull throb of where his cheek was still tender.

"What do you mean?"

"Just, I don’t really know how this is going to go down, I don’t know what your family is capable of, but it would be good to have some photographic evidence. For legal reasons. Just a little insurance if shit hits the fan down the road."

Castiel hadn’t thought of that. He didn’t want to. And he certainly didn’t want photos on his phone to remind him of all this. Dean was right, however, and Castiel didn’t particularly want to know why it had occurred to Dean to tell him this, although at least he had done so in private.

"I suppose that would be wise."

Nodding once, Castiel held his phone out to Dean, who looked surprised.

"Would you? I’m not very good with selfies."

"Oh. Yeah, sure."

Dean took the phone and stepped back, angling it to capture Castiel’s face from several different sides as he snapped a few photos.

"You don’t have to show me, but if you have any other marks, you might want to try to get them in the mirror in the bathroom."

Castiel lifted his sweat shirt up. He found Dean’s almost shy concern regarding the matter to be reassuring. Rolling up the sleeves of his t-shirt, Castiel silently offered the handprint bruises on his upper arms for his friend to take photos of. Dean nodded and took a few more, the old fashioned snap of what used to be the shutter on cameras clicking and marking off when the phone had taken one even though it didn’t have a shutter of it’s own. Dean handed him the phone back and offered a weak smile.

"You need anything you let me know.”

"Thank you Dean."

"Don’t mention it. Go on and keep Sam and Ruby out of trouble today."

Castiel pocketed his phone and pulled his sweatshirt back on, shuffling back out into the living room where Sam, Benny and Ruby had migrated to, slouching on the couch.

Dean leaned against the door frame to his room and tipped his head at Benny, “You got much time before work?”

Benny stood and made his way around furniture to Dean, circling an arm around his waist, “Sugar, for you I’ll make the time.”

Dean pushed him off with an exaggerated shrug. “You going out today Sam?”

"Probably just going to hang out at the playground."

"All right, be back by dinner."

"Okay."

Dean and Benny closed the bedroom door behind them and Ruby made a gagging noise and rolled her eyes before standing and finding her coat to put on.

Castiel asked, “You want to go to a playground in the snow?”

Ruby smirked. “Trust me, you don’t want to be around for the show. Dean’s a screamer.”

Sam, pulling on his sneakers and lacing them up, nodded. “Yeah. We should definitely head out.

Castiel bundled up in the hoody that Meg had lent him and an olive green canvas jacket that Sam insisted he take too. Sam had several layers of sweaters and jackets, Ruby had her thick winter coat and scarf. Together they left the house and wandered through the neighborhood. Castiel might question the safety of being out in a bad area of town like this, but it was daylight and both Ruby and Sam were completely at ease.

Castiel never walked much of anywhere, unless it was to an intersection to wait for Meg. He didn’t have his driver’s license, but he was taken to school, church, extra curricular’s, by his siblings that did drive. It almost surprised him, how much of the city he lived in was unfamiliar to him. It made him realize just how sheltered he was, and he found himself distractedly looking around to take in the houses and shops.

There was a corner store with strange music coming through the door when it opened, letters on the window in another language, dark skinned people smoking outside. There was a row of connected houses that were run down and sad looking which Sam called the ‘projects’. There was a square brick building that was an elementary school, and it was around behind this that they ended up.

More snow had fallen throughout the night, several inches sticking around on the ground and gracing the skeletal tree branches in the small park area behind the school. There was a play ground there, with swings, a slide, one of those metal disks with the handles that you spun around on. Ruby ran and planted herself on it, begging a spin from Sam who grabbed the bars and ran around and around until he let it go and she screeched as it kept spinning.

Castiel sat on the swings and kicked himself back and forth. Ruby and Sam spent the morning laughing and joking and chasing each other around the playground, trying to pull Castiel into their games, and he did join them on the spinning disk although it made him nauseous. They didn’t treat him as fragile or damaged, they didn’t think he was too quiet or too serious; they treated him like they treated each other, and Castiel was grateful for their friendship.

The sun was nearing it’s mid point in the sky when Ruby’s phone started to ring. She ignored it, and it kept on buzzing away. 

Sam nudged her, “Is that Lilith?”

“Ungh. Probably. Whatever.”

“You should answer that, when she calls again.”

Ruby scowled at him, but when her phone went off next, she huffed a great sigh and answered it, wandering off to the edge of the playground. When she came back, hands in her pocket and kicking at rocks through the snow she scuffed away with a shoe, she told Sam she had to leave. 

Castiel was sitting on the swings scratching patterns with his foot in the snow while Sam kissed Ruby goodbye. His cheeks were pink and his breath puffed visibly in the air when he ran back over and sat in a swing next to Castiel. His hands were bare and looked dry, his jeans thin and the sneakers on his feet were duct taped together. But he was smiling. Sam smiled a lot.

"So what do you want to do for the rest of the afternoon Cas?"

"Is there anything you need to do?"

"Not really, I’ve been getting a head start on my school work for next semester, but I haven’t really got anywhere to be. You pick."

"It’s Sunday."

"Yeah?"

"I don’t think I’ve ever missed church."

"Oh."

Castiel wanted to go to church, he couldn’t show up where his family usually went and the morning service would be over anyway. He still wanted to go somewhere and pray.

Sam tipped his head back and hung on his swing looking at the sky.

"I know one church that holds services but that won’t be for a few hours, there’s another place that’s small and I like to go there just to think sometimes. Father Doyle is really really nice."

"I’d like to go there."

"Okay."

Sam stood and shoved his hands in his pockets, leading Castiel off to twist through the city streets in a different direction from where they came.

"Are you religious Sam?"

They passed an auto shop and a dollar store.

"Yeah. Maybe not like, super religious, but I believe in God. Dean doesn’t. Where do you usually go to church?"

"St Sebastian’s. It’s where I go to school."

"I don’t know where that is."

"I’ve gone there since I was little, because that’s where I was always taken."

"Yeah. I don’t think it’s really so much where you go, but just, how you think about it. What makes you feel good. Feel connected."

"What do you mean?"

"I don’t really read the Bible or do a lot of other stuff, but I like to pray, I like to think there’s something bigger out there that looks after us, and I just get a sense of peace from certain places that makes me feel good."

"That’s nice. I’m trying to find somewhere that feels good."

"Cool. There’s so many denominations, it just doesn’t really make sense why people care about really small details, I think, as long as you try to be a good person, that’s what matters."

"I think I believe that too."

Castiel blinked against the bright sun when Sam turned and led them through a mostly empty parking lot where snow was being pushed in great banks. There was a strip of businesses, a market, a post office, a salon, and a corner where there was a neon blue cross in the window. Pushing the glass door open, Sam made his way inside. There were rows of fold up chairs sitting inside facing a simple wooden altar with a plain cross hanging behind it; no morbid crucifixion, just a cross.

There was a cork board with community event information to the left of the door, and to the right below the windows was a statue of the virgin Mary with candles lit beneath her and a line of wooden risers for prayer. Sam took a seat in the front of the area, bowing his head silently. Castiel joined him. They sat quietly in front of the altar in their own contemplation. It was so different from the church he usually went to, sparse and dull, but any place was a place of worship where those gathered to give thanks to God. Castiel felt good here. He felt comfortable next to Sam before the simple altar, and he let his mind drift.

Castiel was disturbed from his calm reverie when a priest in black clothes with the white collar - his sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up - came in from a back room and greet Sam cordially.

"Sam, it’s always nice to see you."

"Hi Father Doyle. This is my friend Cas."

The priest extended a hand, which Castiel shook.

"Hello. It’s nice to meet you."

Father Doyle smile, and his wrinkled face was content, benevolent. His hair was mostly gray and his back was slightly stooped, but his voice was bright.

"It’s nice to meet you. I always love seeing new faces around here. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I just wanted to come and pray."

The priest nodded.

"You are welcome any time."

The priest shook his hand again, and Sam’s, before ambling slowly down the aisle. He straightened chairs and tacked a few papers to the notice board then disappeared into the back again. Sam nodded towards the front of the room where the statue of Mary was.

"Do you want to light a candle?"

"I don’t have anything to give."

There were a few candles still lit beneath the statues, others burned down to the stump. A box of new white candles sat to the side, with a donation box next to that which politely suggested one dollar each.

Sam stood and rummaged in his pockets, pulling out a five.

"That’s all right."

He strode down the aisle and stuffed his five in the donation box, picking out two candles and holding one up to Castiel. He marveled at how easy it seemed for the Winchesters to give things when it didn’t look like they had much to give. Castiel took the candle from him and lit it, setting it in a holder below the statue of Mary and kneeling to offer his prayers and ask for guidance.

Castiel couldn’t deny that he felt lighter when they left the small chapel, and more clear headed than the night before. His choices might not be those that his brother would approve, but that did not make them wrong. That did not make him wrong.

During the walk back to the Winchester ‘s house, Sam chatted about school, his brother, Ruby. Castiel had never been very good at polite conversation, he didn’t have a very interesting life or very interesting thoughts, but it was nice to listen to Sam and Sam was content to talk. When they arrived back at the house, Castiel told Sam that he needed to try calling his sister. Sam told Castiel to use his bedroom, where he’d have more privacy, and to take his time. 

Castiel shut himself in Sam’s small room, there was a narrow strip of floor between the twin bed and the dresser that you probably couldn’t even open the drawers all the way. There were photos tacked to the walls with thumbnails all over, of Dean, of Ruby, of whom Castiel assumed was their father. As well as numerous different houses, the Impala, several dogs, and different landscapes or buildings. Almost the whole room was covered with the collage of photographs. 

Castiel sat on Sam’s bed and tapped his finger against his phone, taking a deep breath. He tried to call Anna first, but she didn’t pick up. He sent her several text messages and waited. He called again and left a voice mail. Next, he tried Gabriel, and Castiel wasn’t certain if it was luck or not that his brother did pick up. 

“Cassie, babe, long time no chat. I’m half tempted to ask if this is a drunk dial.”

“It is not. Hello Gabriel.”

“Heya squirt. What’s going on?”

Castiel figured he should get straight to the matter. It wasn’t as though he regularly made social calls to his eccentric brother. 

“I might need your help. It’s Michael.”

Gabriel’s usually light hearted tone was quickly replaced with concern. “Shit. What did you do?”

“I disagreed with him.”

“Well that’s never a good idea.”

“No. It wasn’t. He had threatened to send me away to boarding school because I refused to cease contact with my girlfriend, Meg. He said some rather insulting things about her, and I may have goaded him on.”

“Trust me, that is not hard to do.”

“We had an altercation.”

“What kind of altercation?”

“I ran away. My friend that I’m staying with, Dean, he advised … he said it would be a good idea to take photos of the bruises, for legal purposes.”

“Ah Christ on a pogo stick. Kid, what did you start.”

“I don’t know, Gabriel, I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to leave. Michael can’t make me go away to school, can he? Can he control everything in my life? Do I have no say in my own future?”

“Well he can sure as shit try. Takes after Dad a little too well. Uh. How long you got a welcome at your friend’s place?”

“I believe indefinitely but I don’t want to place a burden on them.”

“I hear you. I don’t really know what you want me to do though, I don’t really hold a lot of sway with Michael.”

“Could you talk to him?”

“Yeah, I could talk to him until I’m blue in the face, but that doesn’t mean that he’ll listen to me. If I can’t get a few stones unturned, I’ll ask Luc about it.”

"Do you think he’d help?"

"Actually, I know he’d help, but the thing is, you kind of got to be careful with him."

"What do you mean?"

"Luc’s great for favors, he really knows how to pull people’s strings, but if he does something for you, he’ll expect you to do something for him."

"I don’t really have anything to offer."

"Yeah, well, sometimes he waits a few years to collect, but he never forgets a favor. If you really, really need it kid, then I’ll find him after I see what I can do myself. But you gotta be careful with him."

"He can’t be that bad."

"Oh trust me. I have first hand experience. I know sometimes you have to make your own mistakes, but just, be on guard around him, ok?”

"All right. Thank you Gabriel.”

"Sure thing, just keep your head up. You’re not below level yet are you?"

"Uh. No."

"Let me know if it gets bad."

"I will."

"Yeah, ok, I gotta run. I’ll put my feelers out, we’ll see what I can catch.”

Castiel hung up and put his phone back in his pocket, sitting and thinking about everything his brother had said. Gabriel didn’t seem entirely surprised, although he was concerned. Castiel didn’t really know what had happened to cause such a rift between his four older brothers, Michal and Raphael on their Father’s side, Lucifer on his own team and Gabriel in hiding. He felt like he was manipulating that rivalry in attempting to get help from his brother, but Castiel didn’t know where else to turn. 

Castiel could hear several people in the kitchen, and wondered if Dean had gotten up already. He had gone to bed after they left, and even if it was soon after that would still probably be only four or five hours of sleep. Castiel turned out the light and went into the kitchen to join them.

Dean was up, cooking something on the stove that smelled wonderful, wearing faded jeans and a black Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Sam was sitting at the table with a book spread out in front of him.

Dean turned and smiled at Castiel, “You hungry for dinner?”

"That smells wonderful, what are you making?"

"Spaghetti."

"Is there anything I can help with?"

"Nah, park your butt, it’ll be done in a bit."

Castiel sat at the table with Sam, discussing what he was reading when he looked up, which turned out to be an assignment for school. They didn’t talk much during dinner, mostly because everyone was too busy eating. The food was even more delicious than it smelled. Castiel made a mental note to pay the Winchesters back when he could. He did receive a modest allowance, which he could easily give to them for providing him food and shelter. When he went back home. If he was ever able to see them again. 

He hated the feeling of imposing, or of being a burden, but it was entirely self made. Dean and Sam both never once made it seem like he was anything but an honored guest. Dean pushed seconds on him, insisting he was too skinny and needed to eat more. Their kindness astounded him, they were so quick to give of themselves, and more accepting of Castiel than his own family.

When dinner was finished, Castiel gathered the plates and insisted on washing dishes. Of course, Dean tried to strong arm him out of it, but he made a stand at the kitchen sink and glared the man down. Victory was Castiel’s, and he could gain some small amount of his dignity back by at least helping around the house. Sam had gone back to his book, and Dean conceded the staring match by scoffing and stating he needed a shower anyway.

Castiel cleaned the pots and pans, wiped down the stove and counters, and had started cleaning the shelves in the fridge when Dean appeared and took the dishcloth from him. Dean was pink faced and tousle haired from his shower.

"All right ladies, bundle up, we’re going out back for a little lesson."

Castiel squinted, “A lesson in what?”

Sam had perked up from his focus on his book, “Are we going to teach Cas to spar?”

"Hell yeah we are, runt."

Castiel looked between them, frowning. “Sparring?”

Dean nodded, pulling on his boots and coat. “Yep. It’s not like your gonna be a Chuck Norris in a few hours, but I can teach you to break a hold and throw a punch.”

"Oh."

Castiel had never needed to know those sorts of things before. He still hoped he wouldn’t ever really need to in the future either. But perhaps it would be useful. There wouldn’t be anything bad with knowing how to defend himself a little better. He pulled on his sweater and the borrowed one from Meg, tying up the old sneakers she lent him too and trundling outside with the brothers. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground and the air had a cruel biting edge to it, but the sun was warm against his face.

Dean stood in front of him. “All right, punch me.”

"What?"

"Go on, throw a punch, I want to see what you got."

"I’m not sure…"

"Trust me, I can take a hit. Come on."

Sam was watching with a grin on his face, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt pockets and Castiel wondered if they did this often. He pursed his lips and stared at Dean, who shoved lightly at his shoulder in goading. Castiel curled his hand into a fist and punched Dean on the arm. It was really a very pathetic attempt.

"All right, first off, you gotta put some weight behind it. You might not be in a position to really put your body behind it, but try and get what you can. Plant your feet, pull your arm back, really throw your shoulders into it."

Dean demonstrated stances, waving Sam over. Sam stood in front of him, and blocked his punches with a forearm or by twisting away. Dean landed one on Sam’s shoulder, and Sam immediately pounced on him, twisting around and kicking at Dean’s leg and the two of them devolved into a wrestling match on the ground. Castiel just stood looking at them trying to understand. Eventually, they stood up again.

Dean’s face was flushed and he seemed quite happy in teaching Castiel this display of aggression.

"You gotta know the soft spots on a person too. Go for the nose, it’ll make their eyes water, if you throat punch a person right you can get some really sensitive parts, don’t hit in the chest, go for the soft of their stomach. And don’t be afraid to fight dirty if your in a rough spot, knee a son of a bitch in the balls if that’s what you need to do.”

Castiel nodded, Dean was gesturing and pointing at different parts on his body. He motioned on Sam too, throwing light taps just to show Castiel.

“Now, when you throw a punch for real, don’t aim for the spot on a person’s body that you want to hit, aim for behind it. Like you’re trying to punch through. If you’re just aiming for the surface you’re gonna pull your punch, you gotta follow through with it.”

He had Castiel practice a few motions on him, just for the feel of it, before grabbing Castiel by the shoulders.

"All right. If someone’s got you in a hold, say they’re coming at you from the front and they get their hands around your neck or on your shoulders, you bring your arms up to push out at the elbows."

Castiel wasn’t sure what he meant, so Dean brought Castiel’s arms up and demonstrated, going back and forth practicing a few times. He showed several other holds, wrestling with Sam to demonstrate a hip toss from behind, how to kick someone’s knee out, how to roll when you’re tossed or knocked down. It was a lot to take in. But Castiel had to admit that he eventually started seeing a pattern to it. After light practicing to get the basic ideas down, he tried wrestling with Dean.

At first, Castiel was extremely timid and uncertain, he didn’t want to do it wrong and hurt Dean, not to mention he really had no clue for the most part what he was doing. As Dean led him and escalated the pace and intensity of it, Castiel found himself falling in to it and enjoying the physical exertion, the challenge of it. Of course Dean could pin him easily, but he was certainly more confident by the time he heard Meg laughing.

He was on his back in the snow trying to figure out how to buck Dean - who was straddling his lap - off, when she had shown up, taking a picture on her cell phone. Dean stood and offered a hand for Castiel to help himself up. His clothes were wet with the snow but he was warm from the exercise. Meg had changed since work, wearing a long layered black skirt and a baggy sweatshirt that had a skull on the front of it.

"Getting a self defense lesson from Dean?"

Castiel brushed snow off his pants, and trotted over to her.

"Yes, it’s been, enlightening.”

"Well don’t stop on my account, I was enjoying the show, boys."

She winked at him, and Castiel narrowed his eyes back at her. His girlfriend was unashamedly a pervert. Although it made him uneasy at first, especially around other people, Castiel was starting to find her blunt honesty to be refreshing. Dean came over and chatted with Meg, telling Castiel to practice a little with Sam. They both watched and offered critique until everyone’s fingers and faces were numb. 

Dean offered Castiel a change of clothes - loose, warm and blessedly dry pajamas - when they went back into the house. Dean was off work that night, and they all piled onto the couch to watch movies, everyone squished next to each other. Meg touched him absentmindedly any time that they were near, brushing her fingers through his hair or touching his cheek, resting her hand on his thigh or her head on his shoulder. Castiel found himself smiling for most of the evening. 

Meg told him she had to go back home by ten, because that was her curfew. At Castiel’s obvious confusion, she laughed and said she’d be back, probably some time after midnight, when her father fell asleep and she could sneak out. Apparently they had both been sneaking out together. Castiel had merely assumed that her father had more lax rules. As Meg explained, he simply gave more lax punishments. 

After Sam had gone to bed, Dean dragged Castiel into his room and stated that he needed to learn how to play video games. Although Castiel did not understand why this seemed so important to Dean, once he had gotten a handle on the basic controls, he found himself enjoying it. It was a mindless way to pass the time, which was just what he needed. They sat on Dean’s mattress, mis matched navy blue and flannel plaid sheets rumpled at the foot of it. There was a small boxy tv on a wood crate stand next to the window that a sheet was hanging over. They sat cross legged next to each other and every now and then Dean would lean and bump his shoulder against Castiel’s.

Castiel had never heard of the game, but apparently Super Mario Bro’s was a classic and it was absolutely egregious that he didn’t know of it. Although he kept missing his jumps and running into turtles, Dean had plenty of lives to share with him. He had to admit the colorful aesthetic of it was nice, and although they didn’t find the princess by the time Meg had come back, Castiel enjoyed learning the game.

It was almost one am when she knocked softly on the front door. Castiel had been drooping a little but he perked up when he saw her standing on the stoop under the rusty porch light. Dean put on a pot of coffee and said they should hang out on the porch so they didn’t wake Sam up.

Castiel brought one of the thick blankets from the couch out to the porch and curled under it next to Meg. They sat on the ratty mustard yellow love seat that had stuffing falling out, a few diner style chairs with metal frames and cracked red vinyl seats scattered on the porch as well. Dean leaned back in one of those and propped his feet on another. Meg lit up a clove cigarette, tossing her lighter to Dean when he pulled out his own pack. Her nails were chipped and she slumped against Castiel, one foot tucked up underneath her.

"So, did you hear back from your sister?”

He found the smell of her cigarettes calming, despite the harshness. “No, but I did get a hold of my brother Gabriel. He might be able to help, I’m not sure how, but my eldest brothers, they have a sort of hold over each other you could say.”

Dean blew out smoke, slinging his arm over the back of the chair. “When are you supposed to go back to school?”

"Two weeks. I’m not sure what I’ll do if this isn’t settled by then. And I don’t mean to stay here that long, I don’t want to impose.

"Cas, don’t worry about that man. I’m serious. You got other shit to think about. You ever hear of legal emancipation?"

Castiel shook his head. Meg had her hand rested against his thigh. Although he wasn’t smoking, his breath puffed visible in front of him with the cold. He didn’t know how Dean wasn’t shivering sitting out with only his sweater and socks on.

Dean waved his hand that had the cigarette between his fingers in an idle gesture. “It never really came down to it for me, so I’m not sure how it goes, but if you need to you can fight to get legally emancipated from your parents, or guardians, when you’re sixteen. You have to be able to take care of yourself though.”

Castiel stared down at his hands in his lap. There was so much to the world at large that he hadn’t really given consideration to. He was aware vaguely of what went in to being an adult, but he hadn’t the faintest idea how to obtain it. He’d never had a job. Didn’t have his license, or a savings account.

"I wouldn’t know what to do."

Meg nudged him, pulling the blanket closer around them and he lifted an arm to rest across the back of her shoulders. “You got us to help you figure it out.”

"I appreciate it. I think, I’ll see what Gabriel wants to do. I’m sure Michael acted as he did because I caught him off guard, he was defensive. Perhaps he’ll listen to reason if he’s had time to think about it."

Dean grimaced and leaned forward to stub his cigarette out in a coffee can that was sitting in the middle of the porch floor. He stood to go back inside. “I’ll get the coffee.”

Meg flicked her cigarette into the can as well, turning to Castiel and pushing her fingers through his hair.

"You know - and this is a really big maybe - but, if I get good scholarships for the college in town, I’m probably going to get an apartment with Ruby after high school. I’ll ask her, and I don’t think she’d mind, you could probably move in with us when you turn eighteen."

"Really?" 

"Yeah, I mean I can’t make any promises. And that’s not really for a while. But it might be an option."

"That… might work. I’ll keep it mind. Although, I’m sure Michael wouldn’t pay for school if I move out.”

"You don’t have to go to St Sebastian’s, you could always enroll at Firestone."

"I wonder if I could convince him to let me transfer from the start of the year."

"You should see if you can get a job this summer. What do you usually do with your summers anyway?"

"Bible camp or college preparatory classes."

"Wow. That sucks."

"It’s not that bad."

The front door opened and Dean came back out juggling three mugs, pulling the door closed behind him with a foot. He passed them all off, and Castiel found his coffee sweetened with a little sugar, just how he liked. He couldn’t help smiling, despite the cold he had a warm cup of coffee and Meg by his side and friends that really cared about him.

"Thank you."

Dean plopped back down. “No problemo.”

Conversation moved to lighter topics, and although Castiel wasn’t as pop culture savvy as the two of them, he enjoyed listening to them talk about movies coming out, and the latest episodes of their favorite shows. Meg seemed fond of celebrity gossip, and Dean was more than happy to chatter away.

Eventually, Dean stood and gathered the empty mugs. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to have some alone time, just don’t fuck on the porch.”

Meg flipped him off. “Haha, fuck you Dean.”

Dean winked before he disappeared through the door, “Only if Cas is part of the deal sweetheart.”

Castiel blinked after him. “You have strange friends.”

"You know, that means you have strange friends too."

"I suppose you’re right."

"You’re not too shabby in the strange department either, Cas."

Meg shifted to sling a leg up over his lap and curl her arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss her. She always tasted bitter, like cigarettes and coffee, but it seemed to suit her and Castiel liked it. He had one arm along her shoulders, the other come to rest on her thigh. The blankets slipped around them letting cold air in, but their hands were too busy with other matters to bother fixing it. Meg cupped her hands at the back of his neck, nails scratching up past his hair line and tangling in his hair.

He pushed his hand up under her sweater, resting it over her shirt on the curve of her hip. Castiel didn’t think his hands fit quite anywhere as well as they fit on Meg’s hips. It was much warmer under her sweatshirt. They kissed languidly, holding on to each other, shifting on the creaky old love seat on their friend’s porch in the dead of night while snow started to fall on the yard. The sky was too cloudy to show much of the moon or stars, and half of the street lights were broken or flickering, the sad derelict section of town still noisy for so late. There was loud music thumping a few houses down, a dog barking somewhere, and Castiel startled when he heard the shattering of glass but it didn’t seem to concern Meg.

She brushed her hand down his chest, smoothed over his thigh and rested teasingly on the hard length of his erection through his borrowed pajamas. Castiel curled his fingers tighter in her shirt, unwilling to relinquish her lips as he tipped forward to suck on the plush her lower lip, begging entrance. She smiled in that wicked knowing way of hers, letting him in, kissing him and rubbing the heel of her palm against his cock.

Resting his forehead to hers, noses brushing, he said, “As romantic as the scenery is, didn’t Dean explicitly tell us not to engage in sexual intercourse on his porch?”

"A hand job doesn’t count as sex."

"Tempting, but I don’t think I’d be able to maintain an erection in this cold anyway."

Meg hummed softly, lifting her other leg up into his lap and folding herself closer. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

"Then sit here with me."

Twisting his body towards her to encircle her with his arms, Castiel tugged the blankets up around them again and brushed her hair, loose and messy as usual, off her face. He basked in the warm comfort of her presence, the familiarity of her scent and the way she touched him, kisses slowly tapering off until she had her face resting against his shoulder and pressed into the crook of his neck. Sitting together. He sifted his fingers through her hair rested his chin on top of her head. They remained like that for some time until she finally pulled away with a sigh.

"I should get back.”

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I’ll give you a call okay?"

"All right."

Meg pecked him on the cheek and stood, shaking her skirt down and fishing her keys out of her pocket. Castiel folded the blanket and stood at the steps to the porch, kissing her again before she left. He slept on the Winchesters couch again that night. Dean was in his room occupied with what sounded like video games or a movie, a sliver of light and slip of sound from the crack under the bottom of his door. 

Castiel had thought it must be difficult, with the schedule he had and the responsibilities as well. He had thought a lot of things before, about the sorts of people that lived in this part of town, about the sorts of kids that smoked, about the working poor stuck in minimum wage jobs. But what he had assumed, they were all the repetitions of the people around him. He found he didn’t believe much of it anymore. And he was beginning to think he could be happy like this too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long update wait! Just dealing with crap irl, and working on my kink BB. But this fic is certainly not abandoned. Thank you all for your support and comments, it means the world to me. Should be getting back in to posting mostly regularly, hopefully about a chapter a week. I hope you are all well. <3


	11. Curiosity

Castiel woke the next morning to the insistent buzzing of his phone. It was on silent, but had managed to vibrate it’s way across the floor to knock against the table with a loud thump. He was stiff and sore from sleeping on a lumpy couch, sitting up to stretch his arms above his head and hearing his joints pop. It sounded like Dean was still awake in the room over, playing video games.

Pulling the blankets around his shoulders in a cocoon, Castiel fetched his phone and sighed as he scrolled through missed texts and voicemail notifications. He had been ignoring the thing for all of yesterday. Although he still had no reply to give to any of Michael’s messages, he couldn’t help smiling a little at the snarky masked concern in some of Balthazar’s texts.

It was still so early, barely past six, and the sky was gray outside with impending dawn but the world was white and still. Balthazar wouldn’t even be awake now. Castiel sent him a text, hoping to calm his brother’s nerves. He considered taking a shower, but figured it was too early to make noise. He considered knocking on Dean’s door, but didn’t want to bother him. Castiel was uncertain what he was supposed to do.

It made him jump several minutes later when his phone buzzed with another text. It was Balthazar answering him. Something warm curled inside him to know his brother cared. Balthazar was the sort of person that came across as indifferent more often than not, interested in himself, but he had more heart than he let on. They traded messages for a while, and although Castiel thought it wouldn’t be wise for his brother to visit, Balthazar was arrogant and sure of his ability to fly under Michael’s radar. As loathe as Castiel was to admit, the offer to bring fresh clothes was too tempting to pass up.

Quietly padding across the living room to Dean’s door, Castiel knocked. The tv noises paused and a second later Dean was swinging the door open.

"Hey Cas, up already?"

"Yes, my phone woke me."

"Popular guy, huh."

"Not really. A few of my brother’s have been attempting to contact me."

Dean’s easy smile faltered as he waved Castiel in to sit on the bed, quietly letting him take his time to figure out what he wanted to say.

"Would it be all right if I gave one of them your address? My brother Balthazar, he’s nice, he said he wanted to check up on me and bring me a change of clothes. I won’t give away your address, if you think that would be a bad idea."

"Balthazar, have I met this one?"

"I don’t believe so. He doesn’t really get along well with Michael either, but he’s better at sneaking around behind Michael’s back."

"Ah. Gotcha. Hey, it’s cool with me if he wants to come over here. I’m not really afraid of your brothers Cas. You do what you think is best."

Castiel nodded. “Thank you Dean.”

"Sure. You wanna play video games? Or, we could make some breakfast."

"I need to text Balthazar back. Is it too early to take a shower, would I wake Sam?"

"He’s a heavy sleeper, he’s fine."

"All right."

Castiel attempted a friendly smile as he closed the door to Dean’s room behind him again. He sent a message to Balthazar with the address, and did a few stretches in the living room to ease his sore muscles before taking a hot shower.

The morning passed a lot more calmly, without Ruby, Meg or Benny. Sam woke up, grouchy and rumpled, and they had cereal for breakfast. Dean would be going to work later that night. Meg had messaged him that she had work that day but would come by later again. She was picking up extra hours over the break.

It was midmorning when Dean was getting ready for bed that Balthazar dropped by. Castiel’s brother drove his own car that had been paid for by their father several years ago. A sensible Honda Accord. Of course, Balthazar didn’t like the car but he took it anyway, and Castiel never figured out exactly how he had gotten their father to pay for it. Castiel was never very good at understanding the complicated politics and alliances in his family.

Castiel expected his brother’s car, what he did not expect as he stood on the porch closing the door behind him, was to see his sister Hannah getting out of the car as well. Balthazar carried a small duffel bag with him, tossing it at Castiel as he climbed the steps, gathering him up in a quick hug with an “It’s good to see you Cassie” .

Castiel did not miss the way Balthazar winced when he saw Castiel’s face. Hannah frowned at him as well, handing over the back pack.

"I thought you might like your school books, too."

Castiel smiled and bent forward to hug her. She seemed surprised. Affection was not something frequently given in their family - with the exception of a few - but it was something Castiel was growing comfortable with. Enjoying, even. 

"Thank you Hannah, I forgot to ask for that. I do have some reading projects for the break."

Hannah smiled at him, although she glanced around warily at the neighborhood as Castiel ushered them in to the house.

Sam pulled Hannah in to the kitchen, presumably to bribe her with coco as had been done to him. He appreciated that. Sam was very thoughtful, and more mature than most of Castiel’s peers.

Speaking quietly with Balthazar, Castiel asked him, “Did you hear the fight?”

Balthazar rolled his eyes, “I think the whole house heard the fight. Are you all right?”

"I’m fine."

"You’re not planning on running away for good are you?"

"What? Permanently? No."

"You have Hannah and Hael worried about you. I don’t know how you’re going to get yourself out of this mess."

"I talked to Gabriel, he might be able to help."

"Gabriel? Hm, that could be an interesting strategy, pitting them against each other to divert their attention."

"That’s not necessarily what I was trying to do."

"You know that’s what’s going to happen."

"I know."

Balthazar pursed his lips and moved away, shrugging a shoulder.

"Well, as much as I’d love to stay and chat, Michael thinks we’re at the craft store buying more yarn. I think Hannah wanted to say something to you."

His brother drifted off into the kitchen where Castiel could hear Hannah and Sam talking. He staid in the living room, uncertain. Castiel never wanted to upset his sister, any of his family really, and he was bothered to think how much of the yelling she had overheard. He always hated listening to his brothers and father argue when he was little. A lot of times, when he was really little, he would hide in the tree house and listen to the birds instead. There wasn’t much fighting in the house anymore, but those who had disagreed had left.

Dean came out of the bathroom wiping toothpaste off his chin.

"Hey man, you good?"

Castiel offered him a weak smile. 

“Yes. Hannah brought my books for school. She’s very thoughtful.”

“What are you doing with books over Christmas break?”

“I have assignments over the break.”

“Screw that.”

“School is very important to me.”

Dean laughed and shoved his shoulder. “Hey it’s all good, I doubt you could be worse than Sam. So, I’m going to head to bed unless you need anything else.’

“No, it’s fine.”

Dean turned as Hannah was walking in, giving her a friendly nod while she squinted at him before shutting himself in his bedroom.

Hannah was a full head shorter than him still growing, but she looked up at him with concern in her eyes and a stubborn set to her face.

"When are you coming home Castiel?"

"Soon, Hannah, maybe a few days, I’m not sure."

He sat on the couch, which she looked at somewhat warily but followed him to. She folded her hands in her lap and pursed her lips, staring at him.

"Did Michael do that to you?"

Castiel frowned, he wouldn’t lie to his sister but he wasn’t certain how best to explain the situation. “Yes.”

"Why?"

"I disobeyed him, and I, goaded him. I said things I shouldn’t have."

Hannah looked at him, with her soft brown eyes, like there was more he was supposed to tell her, but he wasn’t concerned with himself.

"Hannah has he ever hurt you?"

She shook her head. “No.”

He pulled her closer suddenly, and kissed the top of her head. She looked shocked when he let her go. Castiel decided he show his little sisters how much he cared about them more frequently. 

"I want you to be careful what you say around him. Don’t let him know you were here."

"All right."

"Does anyone else know you’ve come here with Balthazar?”

"I wanted to ask Hael to come, but, she’s mad at you."

"Why?"

"I don’t know. She doesn’t like the fighting."

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you."

"I just want you to come home."

"Soon. I’ll be home before school starts again. I’ll finish that scarf I started for you."

Hannah gave him a small smile, “Promise?”

"I promise."

After several minutes of quiet conversation about books, scarves, and a stray cat in the yard that Hannah tried to feed because it was much too cold for animals out - she was worried about his little pink feet - Balthazar came back in to the living room to usher her out. He was smiling and laughing as he finished a line of thought talking to Sam. He always did laugh his way through difficult situations. Gabriel was like that too. Before closing the door behind himself, Balthazar passed a small folded wad of cash to Castiel and told him to take care.

Castiel loved his family very much. The balance had not been upset much at all when their father died, because Michael filled his role so easily and quickly. Everyone had their place and for the most part they didn’t fight anymore. Castiel couldn’t help wonder if there were something wrong with him, he couldn’t help feeling guilty for introducing conflict to their family again. He didn’t want their younger sisters to hear it. Naomi, Rachel, Hester, Raphael, Uriel - they all behaved like Michael, agreed with him, they had no difficulty in the places they occupied in the family. Balthazar managed to carve out his own place and hide his deviances.

However, Hael and Hannah, they were both so young Castiel wasn’t certain who they were. He saw his younger siblings as seeds, and what they would blossom into was a mystery to him. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to be, you watered a seed and exposed it to the sun and let it grow. But Michael didn’t treat them, didn’t treat Castiel, like that. Castiel felt like Michael saw him as a tool, as something already known, something that Michael could use. And Castiel had let him, had been whatever his family thought he ought to be.

He wasn’t though. He wasn’t his father’s ideal son and he wasn’t what his brothers expected. He didn’t know quite what he was, but he would decide for himself.

When Meg asked him later that day to come over to her house, to talk to her father, he refused again. She had told him that he could probably stay in a guest room at their place, if he’d just talk. She told him her father to wanted to meet him again, if they were so serious as he was starting to get the impression of, but Castiel didn’t want to be seen how he was. It was a private family matter, between he and his brother. To seek outside help would be to upset the balance even more than it was. And who knew, if he were to find a way out with how matters were at the moment, how that would impact the rest of his family. The ones who weren’t part of the fight, who were happy - or so he hoped. 

Returning to his family to work it out privately had a set of variable outcomes that he could predict and deal with. Anything else, it was beyond his imagination. That scared him. No, he was so close to independence anyway that Castiel determined dealing with the situation within his family was his best course of action. 

Castiel spent the day with Sam again, walking around their neighborhood. Sam took him to the public library near their house, which was a twenty minute walk away. The younger Winchester did research on a computer for what clearly did not look like schoolwork, and gave Castiel pointers for researching job opportunities, housing, crime rates in the area. Castiel had been to libraries before, of course, but more often than not his family bought the books they wanted. He knew how to research for school projects online, but what Sam was steering him through was understanding what he would need to know to be more independent. Castiel appreciated his assistance very much.

His brother Gabriel texted him and asked to be sent the photos that Dean had taken. Castiel sent them off quickly; he didn’t even like catching his reflection in mirrors. He tried to ask Gabriel if he had thought of any way they could approach the situation, but his brother ignored his questions. 

Castiel did finally get in touch with Anna, who made sympathetic noises and apologized that she was not immediately available. She offered to drive in to town on the weekend if he needed it, but Castiel understood that she couldn’t come sooner. He told her that if she could keep the time available, it was appreciated, but he was still uncertain what his course of action was to be. 

On Wednesday, Meg had the entire day off work. She came over in the late morning and played video games with him and Sam for a few hours when Ruby called and asked what they were up to. The four of them ended up in the middle of downtown at an ice skating rink that Castiel didn’t even know existed. It was outdoors, in a small field tucked between high brick buildings where they had concerts during the summer, and apparently ice skating during the winter. 

He didn’t know how to ice skate, but he hadn’t known how to roller skate either. Meg was graceful, in a short black skirt that billowed behind her and tight colorful leggins. She held his hand and pulled him along. Ruby and Sam raced each other and shoved one another into the sides of the rink, playfully fighting and laughing. Everyone was pink cheeked and tired by the time they took their rented skates off and returned them. 

They drank hot coco and ate caramel popcorn from one of the food stands that had set up near the rink. Although the cloud of anxiety wouldn’t stop casting a shadow on him, Castiel found the freedom to be intoxicating. He felt like this was what he was supposed to be doing, chatting about nothing of any consequence with friends in a cold tent with coco cupped in his hands and Meg pressed to his side. His backside was sore from falling on the ice too many times, and his ankles felt weak, but he was happy. 

Sam went back to Ruby’s house, after talking to Dean on the phone, and Meg drove Castiel back to the Winchester’s. Dean was cleaning dishes in his work uniform, getting ready to leave for the night. Meg openly asked him if he’d mind them having sex on his bed because the couch was too small, and although Castiel blushed and stared at her horrified, Dean just shrugged and told them to change the sheets when they were done. 

After Dean had left for work, rolling his eyes at them, Meg pulled Castiel in to Dean’s bedroom and shut the door. It was still so foreign to him, when sexual intimacy and displays of affection had been nothing but vilified his entire life, that people could be so open on the matter. Encouraging. Supportive, he might even say. Or, indifferent. It made Castiel slightly uncomfortable to think of doing anything other than sitting with Meg on Dean’s bed. When she pushed him down, wiggling out of her leggings and jumping on top of him to straddle his waist, bouncing on the mattress, he stopped giving the matter so much thought.

The sheets, the whole room, smelled like Dean. Something a little deeper, a little sharper, than how Meg smelled. He was used to the smell of cloves and floral perfume, perhaps he had started associating that unique scent combination with arousal. Changing the pattern made him slightly anxious. When Meg leaned over him, nudging his head aside to suck at the skin of his neck, he could smell her hair. But when he rolled his head to the side for her, he could smell Dean on the pillows. It was strange.

It didn’t hamper how quickly he got an erection though. To be honest, if anything, he found the illicit thrill of the novelty - the smell of someone else - to be exciting. Gripping his hands on Meg’s waist, rocking his hips up against her, Castiel made a soft little sound of confused frustration. Meg pushed herself up, hands braced to either side of his head, and looked down at him with one eyebrow arched and her lips curling up in a smile.

"Hey Cas, can I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

Meg licked her lips, jerking her head to toss her tangled hair over one shoulder.

"Are you attracted to Dean?"

Immediately he felt shame clench in his gut - guilt almost - that he could lust after someone else when he was with Meg. He hadn’t thought he were so easy to read.

Meg dipped down and kissed the tip of his nose. “Hey, it’s okay, no judgements here all right. I’ll be honest, I think he’s pretty fucking hot too. I’m just curious.”

"Oh. Oh you - really?"

"Yeah, come on, he’s totally eye candy. There’s nothing wrong with looking."

Castiel squinted at her. Perhaps it was normal for people to find themselves attracted to others when they were already spoken for, but, if it was Meg finding another boy attractive that was one matter. It was an entirely different matter for Castiel to find another boy attractive. Although, Meg had identified herself as queer so if anyone were to make sense of the things Castiel didn’t understand for himself, perhaps it would be her.

"I do find him attractive."

She smiled at him. “Do you think about other boys a lot.”

"Perhaps not ‘a lot’ , but, yes I do think about other boys."

Meg leaned up, sliding her hips against his lap as she reached down to undo his belt buckle and open his pants. This was confusing to Castiel, and utterly arousing.

"What do you think about doing with other boys?"

"Ah - I, think about kissing them."

"Mm. Kissing boys is a lot different from kissing girls."

"Is it?"

"Yeah."

Castiel reached up for her, fingers pulling at the hem of her shirt, pushing it up, and Meg leaned forward so he could lift it off her, tossing it on the floor and spreading his hands across the smooth skin of her hips. She reached behind herself to unclasp her bra.

"Do you ever think about putting your mouth on another boys cock?"

Castiel could feel the heat flooding his face suddenly. Meg had a habit of making him blush.

"I have thought about that."

"Interesting. You’re not really that innocent are you."

"Is it difficult?"

"What?"

Meg dropped her bra. Castiel reached up to cup her soft breasts, but he wasn’t thinking about how yielding and gentle her body was against his. He was thinking about the way some boys smelled when he was pressed too close in a crowd, thinking about calloused hands and green eyes, about hardness and flat planes of muscle.

"To … uh, is sucking cock difficult?"

Meg laughed quietly, but it was an amused laugh not a cruel one.

"That depends on the cock."

"Oh."

She lifted up on her knees to pull his pants down, leaving them at mid thigh before crawling back onto his lap, her skirts hiked up around her waist and she was bare underneath.

"Have you ever thought about fucking a boy?"

Castiel swallowed with an audible click and nodded.

"Have you ever thought about getting fucked by a boy?"

Castiel was still wearing his shirt. The bed was soft and it creaked underneath them when Meg moved down lower again to pull his pants off all the way. The sheets were rumpled, warm, and there was an odd shaped water stain on the ceiling. Castiel was trying not to think about it. As comfortable as he was with Meg, the pre-conditioned reactions to the fact that he did indeed think about it was so ingrained that he couldn’t help feeling shame and disgust with himself.

Her hands slid lightly down his thighs, prick of nails barely scratching, and his cock twitched against his stomach fully erect. Meg was staring at him curiously, waiting for an answer.

He nodded again. “I have. Thought about getting, about getting fucking by boys”, he parroted her words back to her, the vulgarity foreign on his tongue, “I’ve thought about, being held down and … and made to do things that I shouldn’t want, but I do.”

Meg was crawling back up the bed, in between his legs, and he parted them for her to nestle between his thighs. She was watching him so intensely but the questions had stopped and he wasn’t sure where to go from there.

"Does it hurt?"

She frowned slightly, brow creasing. “Hm? What?”

"Anal. Have you ever…."

"Oh. Yeah I have. It can hurt if you don’t do it right, but it can feel really, really good too."

She took his cock in her hand, slender fingers gripping firm and squeezing, holding him. Her other hand moved down, rolling his scrotum in the palm of her hand, before moving lower, heel of her palm pressed to the stretch of skin between his legs and fingers curling back farther.

"I could show you, if you want, I could do that for you."

Castiel’s breath was coming too fast and he was too hot, stomach trembling and he spread his legs wider. It felt so wrong, to have someone there, kneeling between his legs and reaching down where he’d never, he’d never. It was difficult to put his want to coherent words, and even more strange for the fact it was a girl with him.

"Would you want to? Why would you want to…"

Her smile stretched wide across her face, “Because I want to”, and she braced a hand on his hip as she leaned down stretching along his body, “because I like to watch you squirm”, her breath was hot against his neck as she licked the shell of his ear, “because I like to corrupt you.”

Castiel curled his arms around her back, hands kneading into the skin, fingers tracing the curve of her spine as he clasped his thighs around her hips, one of her delicate hands still between his legs.

"I want you to."

Meg curled along his body, back arching up away from him then pressing down against him as she shifted over, pressing her lips to his. She kissed him open mouthed, sucking his lower lip into her mouth and biting down against it, licking into his mouth and pushing against his tongue. She was messy and eager, and Castiel found himself stimulated by it, suddenly dizzy with anticipation. He wondered what exactly she wanted to do to him, because there were a few things he could think of. He’d let her, though, have whatever she wanted. It was intoxicating, to be desired.

Castiel lifted off the bed gravitating towards her when she knelt up and started climbing over him to get off the bed. Her skirts fell around her thighs, breasts still bare, her cheeks pink and lips wet.

"Stay here, I’ll be back in a minute."

She smirked and winked at him, opening the door and sticking her head out to peer down the hallway before darting out. Castiel sat up and pulled his shirt over his head. He had given thought to the matter before, of being intimate with another boy. The only person who might - enthusiastically - provide information on the matter was Balthazar, but that would be entirely too uncomfortable. Castiel wasn’t certain if he was too masculine or too feminine, if liking boys as well as girls was a bad thing and he was only confused. He had never had anyone he trusted to confide in, but Castiel had prayed for guidance.

It felt wrong, but it only felt wrong because he could hear the voices of his pastor and his brothers in his head. He wanted this. When Meg came darting back in, closing the door behind her, she shimmied out of her skirts and knelt on the edge of the bed. Her prize, apparently, was a bottle of cooking oil. Castiel frowned at it.

"Are you sure that’s sanitary?"

"Oh yeah, it’s fine. What do you think people used before lube was invented?"

"I have no idea."

"Oils, lards, things like that.”

"Oh. That’s… enlightening."

Castiel didn’t realize he was shaking minutely until Meg put her hand on his thigh.

"Cas, relax. You over think things way too much."

He took a shuddering breath and leaned up to pull her down, wrapping a leg around her waist again and tangling their bodies together.

"I can’t help it."

"What are you thinking about right now?"

"My brothers, my pastor."

"They’re not here with you, I’m here with you."

Meg rubbed her whole body against his, legs shifting and stomach sliding down, her hands gliding along his sides and her mouth kissing hot down his chest. Oh, it was a much better distraction. He focused on her, on the twist of nimble fingers tweaking his nipples and scratching down to his hips. On the heat of her breath against his cock and the curve of her shoulder pressed against his spread thigh. On the tickle of her loose hair tumbling over his stomach and the coil of lust in his belly. She was very distracting, and very persuasive.

She licked at the tip of his cock, teasing, while Castiel reached down to push her hair up, devious brown eyes watching him. Meg pushed up on one hand and grabbed the bottle of oil from the floor, still rubbing and moving against his body as she opened it and tipped a little into the cupped palm of her hand. She rubbed both her hands together, and he was slightly concerned that she was coating everything with it, but when she reached down behind his scrotum it was hot from the friction and slick.

Meg settled herself over his lap again, kissing at his cock while she brushed her fingers between his legs.

"You can tell me to stop anytime, if you don’t like something, just say."

Castiel nodded, one hand gripping into Dean’s sheets, the other buried in her hair. “All right.”

Meg licked up the length of his twitching cock and sucked the head into her mouth, just holding him there, her fingers pressing more insistently down. He was braced, tense, and waiting. She didn’t rush, or push, none of her usual aggression in how she gently ran the pads of her fingers over the ring of muscle, pressing and stroking, circling her fingers around, while her mouth working on his cock was making him slowly unravel.

He’d touched himself, curiously, at his hole a few times, barely anything. It never felt like this, slick slender fingers caressing him and she twisted her hand to press her thumb against a spot behind his scrotum that he didn’t know was so sensitive.

His nerves slowly started to ease and unknot, pressing his wrist to his mouth so he wouldn’t make too much noise. He tried to stop thinking, and found his body moved of it’s own accord seeking what it wanted. Legs spread and pulling up higher, hips lifting and curling, feet digging in to the mattress. When he whimpered, Meg bobbed her head down and he felt his cock hit the back of her throat when a single digit breached him.

Castiel groaned, hips stuttering, and Meg’s free hand that was slippery with oil and warm pressed against his hip, fingers curling over the jut of bone and sinking into his skin. It was a strange sensation bordering on uncomfortable but certainly not painful and it made him squirm. It seemed somehow unsatisfying in that it wasn’t enough stimulation.

“Another, Meg, please.”

She was watching him, her eyes wide and greedy, plush lips wrapped around his cock and she laved her tongue along the shaft pushing out past her lower lip and trickling saliva while she slid another finger inside. He could feel the muscles stretch against that, pulling tight and clenching. Taking a deep breath, relaxing, toes curling into the sheets and his stomach quivering, Castiel moaned and spread both his arms up above his head. He was completely pliant underneath Meg, passive even but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

That was good - blissful - two of her slim fingers, enough to feel, and when she pressed in deep, twisting, rubbing, pressing at things and there was something inside him, someone else was inside him. He could certainly understand the appeal of this, once the strangeness faded it was an intense sensation, but even the pleasure that was settling as his muscles loosened seemed like a tease when Meg hit that something inside him that had Castiel gasping and locking up.

The taut flush of pleasure at the base of his spine coiled and snapped more suddenly - and intensely - than he would have thought possible. He choked on his own moan as his body seized and Meg swallowed around his cock, tongue sliding, pressing her fingers against that secret thing inside him that had his orgasm drawing out in a protracted sluggish release.

Castiel clenched his hands in the sheets beside his head, his hips bucking and driving into, onto, anywhere Meg was. He coughed, muscles clenched and the tight pleasure pulsed, stuttering out a groan that eased to a whine. Meg twisted her fingers inside him, tugging at the rim and stretching him, dragging them out and slowly, lazily, pushing back in to linger. When she pulled off his cock, tousled dark hair fallen around her face, licking her lips plump and slick with spit, she removed her fingers slowly and pet her unsullied hand down his trembling thigh.

"Oh, oh …. oh."

"Did you like that, Cas?"

"Oh fuck."

"I’ll take that as a compliment."

Meg grinned, bending forward to press a kiss to his hip, to his belly shining with perspiration. She crawled over his legs and up the bed, reaching for a tissue from a box next to the bed on the floor, spitting on her hand and wiping her fingers off. She sat on the edge of the bed, turned around and kissed his shoulder.

Castiel was very much intent on reciprocating but it took him a few minutes to be able to control his limbs again. Everything tingled with lingering heat and he felt weightless. Reaching an uncoordinated hand to pat at her waist, Castiel took a few deep breaths as he rolled onto his side. Meg was watching him curiously with an amused smile curling the corners of her lips up.

Heaving up, Castiel pulled her back down onto the bed as she screeched and swatted playfully at him. Pushing her onto her back and kneeling between her legs, Castiel ran his hands down the curves of her sides and massaged his fingers into the plush of her hips. Leaning down to kiss her, still out of breath and panting against her open mouth, Castiel stroked the smooth skin of her thigh and pulled her legs wider apart.

Moving down her body, dragging his lips and tongue along the length of her neck and the curve of her shoulder, Castiel pressed kisses to her skin and sucked small bruises for Meg to remember him by. She’d sigh and arch up into his mouth when he sank his teeth into the pliant give of her breasts. He liked to press his cheek to the sweet smelling softness of her chest and listen to the pulse of her heart.

Brushing his fingers down the soft patch of hair above her sex, he lingered with his mouth to her nipples, something oddly satisfying about sucking at her breast, pulling it between his lips and rolling the nub between his teeth. Meg’s fingers scraped through his hair and she pushed her hips up to try and rub against his hand. Castiel kissed each breast and moved down, laving his tongue from her sternum to belly button.

He wanted to give to Meg. Give her pleasure and release, affection and love. But he always felt as though he were taking for himself, when he had her body spread out beneath him.

Pressing his nose to the curve of her stomach, soothing his hands across the backs of her thighs, Castiel liked to look at her, at the secret places of her body that she shared with him. It was still such a profound mystery to him, the desires of the body and how it tangled up with emotion, how two people could connect physically and metaphysically. Meg breathed gently, fingers curling against his ear, quietly watching.

Castiel licked at the slick pink places between her legs, laving his tongue against the creases of skin and flicking around the sensitive button of her clit as she moaned and rolled her hips to press against him harder. Sliding two fingers inside her as he sucked on her clit and flattened his tongue to press against it, rubbing down along the length of her vulva and licking beside where his fingers worked, curling and twisting.

Castiel liked the sharp taste on his tongue, how wet he made her, clenching hot around his fingers. He pressed his face between her legs until his cheeks were wet with it. There was a new curiosity, though, for different things sparked by what she had shown him.

Spreading his hands on her slender thighs he pushed them higher. Meg huffed and pulled her legs up, curling her arms around her legs to hold herself spread for him. Completely exposed and open, he could see the pink pucker of her anus. Dipping his head down, Castiel licked against the tight furl of muscle. Meg gasped and jerked.

Castiel stopped and looked up at her, “I’m sorry, is that all right?”

"Oh god yes, don’t stop."

Meg squirmed and held her legs wider, encouraging, and he abandoned any timidity in favor of drawing out the juddering moans that shook her body when he pressed his mouth against her. She chanted his name and begged for more when he sealed his lips around the fluttering muscle and swirled his tongue around until it loosened and he could press inside.

Bringing his free hand up to caress, roll and squeeze the sensitive plump skin of her vulva, Castiel followed her guidance as she rocked against him and told him when to press harder and where and how until she couldn’t talk anymore and slumped against the bed panting. He took of her body like the offering it was and praised her with his tongue and hands.

When her legs clasped about his head and she held him tight with a grip in his hair, grinding against his face while her muscles quivered and shook through her orgasm, Castiel couldn’t breathe pressed so close to her. He pulled back gasping when she released him, face smeared wet and quite pleased with himself for the flush on her cheeks and the faraway unfocus of her pretty brown eyes. Quite exhausted himself, he stretched up along her body and slung an arm across her stomach, their legs entwined.

Nuzzling against her neck, he breathed the aroused salt scent of her and rubbed his face against her hair fanning out on the sheets beneath them. Meg giggled, breathing heavy, limbs all askew as she stretched and adjusted and turned towards him. Castiel leaned up to press a kiss to her lips and Meg squirmed away.

"You just had your tongue up my ass, I am not kissing you."

"I thought you liked it."

"I did, I really really did, and you need to do that again, but I’m not kissing you."

Castiel wasn’t quite sure he followed the logic.

"Would you… put your tongue, there, on me?"

"Yeah, if you shower first."

"Oh."

Meg scrunched his hair between her fingers, playing with it as she pushed it back from his face. She kissed the tip of his nose, his forehead, an eyelid and his cheek.

"I know. It’s kind of weird. Just, I’m fine with kissing after pussy or dick, but like, there’s just something about tasting your own ass that’s wrong. I don’t mind tasting someone else’s, if it’s clean, but I have no desire to ever find out what my own ass tastes like."

"I imagine most would taste similar."

"It’s not about the comparison Cas."

“Hm.”

Meg sighed, breath hot against his neck, curling her arm over his shoulder. “Hey, I need to be leaving soon. Why don’t you go brush your teeth and we’ll suck on each other’s faces for a bit.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Castiel lingered, still, luxuriating in the mutual exposure of their bodies. Trailing his hand up the bump of her hip bone, the curve of her stomach, the expansion of her ribs and rise of her breasts, he buried his nose in her hair and breathed deeply. Groaning, he pushed himself up and stretched his arms above his head. Shifting his hips, he could still feel his stretched used muscles, and he liked it. 

He dressed and brushed his teeth, while Meg dressed and rummaged through the hallway storage for fresh sheets. They changed Dean’s bed together, balling up the used sheets and leaving them in the corner for lack of a better place to put them. Meg pushed Castiel up against a wall and, as promised, rather enthusiastically sucked on his tongue and lips for a few minutes. He tried to run his fingers through her hair but ended up tangling in knots and massaging his fingers against her scalp. 

When she eventually parted to leave, a sated grin on her face, Castiel locked the house up and curled on the couch. Sam was still out, and Dean was at work. He was alone in his friend’s house, but he didn’t feel out of place. The brief period of time away from his family, and so far removed from their world entirely, had lent him a different impression of the world. 

There were curiosities waking up in Castiel, budding from the excess of sun he was exposed to.


	12. Compromise

When Castiel woke on Thursday morning, he could hear Dean humming softly in the kitchen, could hear him moving around quietly, the hiss and sputter of the temperamental coffee machine. Sitting up and stretching with a yawn, Castiel’s body felt differently. It ached dully remembering last night, and it’s a good memory. Curling his toes against the scratchy carpet, he pressed a hand to his sore stomach, feeling like he’d done too many reps of sit ups.

Shuffling down the short hallway to the kitchen, Castiel poked his head in and said good morning to Dean before shuffling in to the bathroom and stripping for a shower. As the water took it’s time warming up, Castiel regarded himself in the mirror. The bruises on his arms were all faded to non existent, and the one down half his face was mostly gone. It was still a faint yellow, but barely noticeable. The scab on his split lip had fallen away.

He’d been with Dean and Sam for the better part of a week, learning how to curl on their couch just so in order to avoid the pokey springs. Visibly, he could barely tell any difference from who he was last week. Internally though, felt immeasurably different for so short a lapse of time. Ideas grew, like the body, changing and becoming stronger with use, some sloughing away like dead skin, always renewing, always in motion.

Tearing himself away from the mirror, Castiel glanced around the bathroom. Everything in was mis matched, from the hot wheels rug in front of the tub, to the ducky shower curtain, and the glass cup with a Budweiser logo on it that held toothbrushes on the sink. Castiel wondered if some of these things were remnants from the young boys Sam and Dean used to be.

When the water had warmed, curls of steam seeping out from around the curtain to fill the bathroom, Castiel stepped under the spray and washed quickly. He couldn’t resist touching himself in a way that was more than perfunctory. He wasn’t certain why Meg liked his body so much. It was, to him, simply a body. Although it didn’t seem particularly ugly, he didn’t consider himself particularly handsome either. Castiel rarely thought about his appearances, at least not until lately.

He didn’t understand how Meg saw him, what she saw in him. And Castiel suspected that were case the other way around as well. Meg was beautiful to him, in her body and her spirit, but she usually came across as dismissive or even uncomfortable when he told her so. He supposed there must be something desirable to him, although he couldn’t see it himself. 

Stroking down the plane of his stomach and over the jut of his hipbones, Castiel pressed down, reached between his legs, curled forward and spread a thigh a little wider. He wasn’t necessarily sore, but he felt different, could still feel the ghost of sensation and his muscles twitched beneath his fingers, an anticipatory response, and Castiel wondered why this was supposed to be a negative thing. A dirty thing. Something undesirable, that somehow made him less of a man. To want to be breached here, find pleasure here.

Shaking water out of his eyes, Castiel slammed the knob off and hopped out of the shower. He didn’t want to linger longer than he should and use all the hot water. Toweling off, he dressed with the clothes that Balthazar had brought for him and hung his towel up to dry next to where Sam and Dean’s hung.

Breakfast with the brothers was something Castiel enjoyed, whether other people had wandered in to the house and filled it with noise and activity, or whether it was just the three of them like today. Sam would hunch and blink at Dean, and Dean would chatter on about the weird customers that came in to Walmart during the night.

Mid morning, after Dean had gone to bed and Castiel was quietly reading while Sam spread out with a school project in the living room, his phone buzzed with a text message. It was from Gabriel, reading simply ‘sending the queen your way’. Castiel frowned at his phone, put his book down open to his page on his thigh and tapped out ‘Please clarify’. It was several minutes later before Gabriel sent back ‘couldn’t make it out your way kiddo, sorry, but Luci should be there some time tomorrow’. 

Castiel stared at his phone, suddenly anxious at the thought of going back although he knew he couldn’t stay with the Winchesters forever.

"My brother is going to be coming tomorrow."

Sam looked up from a spread of papers where he sat cross legged on the floor. “Which one?”

"Luc, he’s from out of town."

"Oh. Is that a good thing? That he’s coming."

"I hope so."

Castiel tapped a ’ Thank you' out to Gabriel and set his phone on the arm of the couch.

"I don’t really know what’s going to happen."

Sam smiled at him, and Castiel found himself still surprised at how genuinely warm and concerned he could be for others.

"I’m sure you’ll be fine Cas. Are you going home, like for good, or do you think you’ll be coming back here.?"

"I have no idea. I’m fairly certain that Luc will just be using me to get at Michael, they’ve always fought, and viciously, but I don’t really know what he would get out of it."

Sam scrunched his lips up and stared at Castiel for a moment. “You’ll be careful right, you think it’s safe to go back?”

"I think it’s the best option, if I can reach some sort of compromise with Michael."

"Well you know we’ve got your back if you need help."

"Thank you Sam."

They read quietly together for most of the afternoon. As Castiel turned to some of his schoolwork that he wanted to get a start on over the break, Sam became curious and sat next to him, reading along and asking questions. Sam was in a grade lower than Castiel, but he felt that Sam probably should have skipped a grade somewhere.

Towards late afternoon, Sam received a message from Ruby and invited Castiel to go out with them, wherever they ended up. Meg was still at work, and Castiel figured that Sam would appreciate time away to himself since they’d been crowded in so close together, so he declined. Tidying the house a little, Castiel felt slightly uncomfortable rummaging through someone else’s cupboards, but he wanted to surprise Dean with dinner, as a way to say thank you. Especially if Castiel would be going back home tomorrow. Because for as much as he wanted to be positive about the outcome of talking to Michael again, Castiel was uncertain when he’d be able to see his friends again afterward.

Dean swayed in to the kitchen earlier than he usually rose, wearing only a pair of boxers and rubbing his eyes yawning. Castiel stared for a minute at his toned chest smattered with freckles before turning back to the stove, feeling his cheeks heat up. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Meg had said yesterday. 

"Dude, did you fucking cook?"

"I hope you don’t mind. Sam is out, I tried making spaghetti."

"Smells fucking delicious man. I gotta piss, would you put some coffee on?"

Castiel couldn’t help smiling a little at Dean’s impeccable manners. He was afraid his friends really were being the bad influence on him that Michael feared, but then again, from his side it didn’t seem that bad at all. Castiel found himself thinking in cuss words more though, and reminded himself not to use them. Dean came back in a minute later as the coffee pot was dripping and Castiel was setting two plates on to the kitchen table. He had put on a shirt at least, but his hair was still squashed flat on one side and spiked up on another from sleep.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, man you guys were quiet today."

"We were studying."

"Fucking dorks, it’s winter break man."

Castiel shrugged and ate a few bites of his food. Dean gave an exaggerated moan as means of communicating his approval of the food, because the mumbled ‘ths shh dlscshh’ didn’t really make sense to Castiel. After Dean had somehow inhaled half his plate in a few bites, he stood to get himself a cup of coffee. He passed one to Castiel without asking, sweetened.

"One of my brothers is going to come tomorrow."

"Like, a good one or a bad one?"

"I honestly don’t know, I don’t see Luc much."

"You going home?"

"I’d like to."

"I’m not really sure that’s the best choice man, no offense."

"I think it’s the most viable one, for now at least."

"So what, your brother’s gonna to bat for you, how does that work?"

"I assume by threatening or coercing Michael."

"It goes South, you know you can come back here."

"I can’t hide forever."

"Yeah. Dad’ll be back eventually, and he’ll ask questions, but uh, seriously man, just don’t do anything stupid cause you don’t think you got any other choices. You’ve always got a choice."

Castiel nodded and finished eating his spaghetti. They talked about nothing much at all, Dean enlightening him on very important matters of pop culture savvy, while Castiel listened. After dinner, Benny dropped by stating he had the whole night free. They all watched a movie together, before Dean and Benny retreated to his bedroom. Castiel ended up on the porch, still able to hear the proceedings. Sam didn’t come home, Dean told Castiel before he left for work that Sam was staying at Ruby’s for the night.

It was a quiet night alone after that, and although Castiel knew he should get sleep, he couldn’t help keeping himself up thinking. He really didn’t know much at all about his two older brother’s Gabriel and Lucifer. He knew they lived out of town, but they weren’t discussed in more than passing, and Castiel only ever saw them once or twice a year during the holidays. He knew more about Anna, they talked every now and then, and she wasn’t quite as vilified as his two brothers.

Castiel didn’t know how far away Lucifer lived. He didn’t know what was going on his brother’s life that would be put on hold for Castiel. He didn’t know, more than a few assumptions and rumors based mostly on what he had heard very recently at last Christmas’ gathering, why exactly Lucifer was the pariah of the family. For being queer. Although he could understand why their conservative family would shun Lucifer for that, Castiel didn’t understand why he was so hated.

To be honest, Castiel used to hate him as well. And he hadn’t the slightest idea why. It was simply that every around him hated Lucifer, by the time he was old enough to understand the words they said, Lucifer was gone. He hated his brother because everyone else in his family had. He assumed the worse, because he had nothing better to go on. Now that he was in trouble, he had asked for help and would be given it, but Castiel wondered what the cost might be. Gabriel, he felt more comfortable around, simply because Gabe was better tempered, smiled more. Even though he had basically disappeared just as Lucifer had, the rest of the family didn’t speak of him how they did of Lucifer. There was so much that Castiel didn’t know.

He slept fitfully. Packing everything he had in his backpack, Castiel sat with his phone in his hand wondering if he should try and get in touch with his brother via Gabriel. He didn’t have anything more to go on other than ‘sometime today’. Well, it wasn’t as though he had anything better to do but wait.

Lucifer came later in the evening, and Castiel had been listening for the crunch of a car pulling onto the frost hardened rut of a driveway in the Winchester ‘s yard. He was on his feet and looking out of the curtains before the car was parked. Castiel didn’t necessarily want to introduce his brother to his friends, he wasn’t certain why but he was certain that it would be awkward. Grabbing his backpack, Castiel thanked Sam and Dean, waving goodbye and promising to call afterward to let them know what had happened. He hoped things would be resolved cordially enough to stay at home tonight.

Castiel was out of the door by the time Lucifer stepped up to the porch. He looked completely average in light blue jeans and an olive green shirt with several layers of jackets over it. Castiel was dressed as he always was, most of his clothes all looked the same and Balthazar had brought slacks, button downs shirts, the only thing missing was his tie.

"Hello little brother."

"Hello Lucifer, thank you for coming."

They headed to the car together, an unassuming beige sedan. Castiel tossed his bag into the back and buckled himself in the front seat. Lucifer backed up and pulled away from the small house and the run down neighborhood.

"So what happened, weren’t you always the quiet, well behaved one?"

"Not anymore, I suppose."

"Fair enough."

Castiel watched the business and houses go by, he recognized the small strip of shops where the chapel Sam had taken him to was located. He tried to commit it to memory; Father Doyle was a nice man.

"Well, Gabriel didn’t really give me a lot of details. He said you needed some help dealing with Michael, said you ran away."

"Yes, that’s right."

"And what, you want to run back?"

"I don’t really have anywhere else to stay."

The car slowed to a stop at a light. Lucifer looked over at him. He was barely over thirty but there were lines etched in his face, something heavy in his presence. Lucifer seemed to consider him for a minute.

"I could put you up, you could come stay with me."

"I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to stay here. I’ve made friends here. Michael and I started fighting because he wanted to send me off to boarding school, and I refused. I’m not going anywhere."

Lucifer nodded, weaving through traffic going at least five over the speed limit.

"This is about that girl, isn’t it. The one you were talking about at Christmas."

"In part. Michael won’t accept her as my friend, much less anything more."

"Hey at least you’re not into boys, he’d have you shipped off to pray away the gay so fast you’d get whiplash."

Castiel frowned down at his hands folded in his lap. If there were anyone in his family who might understand … unusual deviancies, it might be Lucifer.

"I think I might like boys too."

"Oh?"

There was a note of curiosity in Lucifer’s voice, like this was interesting gossip instead of something that had Castiel’s mind twisted around and knotted so hard he couldn’t tell left from right.

"I don’t know. Meg is, she’s very different, and very open, and I’m not really sure what’s happening, but…"

"Hey, don’t sweat it, you’re young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you to figure that shit out. Just don’t think you have to be like one way, or like another way. Whatever it is that Michael wants you to think, he’s a dick, and he’s wrong about a hell of a lot. Why do you even want to go back there?"

"I told you, I’m not leaving and I don’t have anywhere else to go."

"What exactly is it you think I can do for you? If you went and groveled, Mike’d take you back himself."

"But on his terms. I’m not going to school halfway across the country."

"I’ll hand it to you, you’re clever Cas. Trying to use me to distract Mike, is that is? Or do you think I’m threatening to him?"

"I’m not really sure. I had contacted Gabriel because I had hoped he would know how to deal with Michael, how to get him to listen."

"Oh, Mike doesn’t listen."

"Well, Gabriel didn’t think he could do anything. I assumed with the conflict between you two, you had come to help because I might be something you could aggravate Michael with. You enjoy it, don’t you , fighting with him?"

"I don’t enjoy it. But I’m not going to stop because I won’t let him just get his way, he thinks he’s so much more superior than the rest of us, but I’m not going to let him forget, to just sweep me under the rug like the family’s dirty secret."

"So what do you get out of this, someone else on your side?"

"You’re not too far off the mark. Yeah, I kind of just want to piss Mike off. But I help you get what you want with this Cas, you’ll owe me."

"I don’t see what I have that you could possibly want."

"Right now, nothing."

Lucifer let that hang in the air, and Castiel felt like his silence was an implicit agreement. There were perhaps other options, but he felt that this was the best one. Lucifer would know how to deal with Michael, and whatever he might ask of Castiel in return, he doubted it would be anything so severe as Gabriel thought it could be. Gabriel always did tend to be melodramatic.

As they wound through the suburbs, lawns became wider and houses more grand competing for attention until they got to their family house. Lucifer parked in the drive, and Michael was waiting for them at the door. Castiel wondered if Lucifer had gotten in contact with Michael prior to this. No one had kept him in the loop, it was only Gabriel’s short message that told him to expect anything.

Being ushered inside, Raphael and Naomi came to hover near Michael in the foyer while they all stood tensely regarding one another. Of course, Michael would have other’s overseeing this disagreement as well. If Castiel wanted to bring a brother in to help him, Michael would have more. As if in numbers he could assure his intimidation or his enforce his authority.

Michael’s disregard for Lucifer was palpable. “Come to tear this family apart even more, have you?”

"Always good to see you again Mike." Lucifer pushed past him. "Raphi, Naomi, it’s so nice of you to be here for support."

Naomi folded her arms under her chest and pursed her lips, scowling at him.

Raphael took a step back as Lucifer eased into his space too close for comfort. “You’re presence is not needed here.”

They were dressed in suits, as well pressed and uniform as they always were, even on a Friday night. Michael locked the front door and walked towards the staircase.

"I still fail to understand how any of this is your business."

Lucifer followed him. “I’m making it my business.”

Everyone had turned to go up the stairs. Castiel lingered in the hallway. “Where are we going?”

Michael turned toward him, replying “My study.”

"No." Castiel shook his head and stood firmly planted. He didn’t want to see the inside of Michael’s study, ever again.

"Don’t be difficult Castiel."

Lucifer gave an exaggerated yawn and practically smacked Michael stretching his arms out.

"I could use some coffee, why don’t we do this in the kitchen."

Naomi rolled her eyes and looked between Michael and Lucifer before stalking down the hallway with her heels clacking on the hard wood. “I’ll put a pot on.”

Castiel was relieved when everyone else started filing down the hallway to the kitchen in the back of the house. He didn’t see any of his other siblings in the living room or the dining room, most likely they had all been sent to their bedrooms or were out of the house. Michael wasn’t usually quick to temper, he could be demanding and forceful, but more often than not appearances mattered a great deal to him. Castiel doubted he’d want the rest of the family to know any more about this situation than was necessary. 

Settling down at the kitchen table while Naomi fussed with the coffee, Raphael and Michael sat across from Castiel and Lucifer. Castiel sat straight with his hands folded in his lap and his head up. Michael stared at him for a minute before asking, “So you’ve decided to come back home?”

“I would like to, if we can reach a compromise.”

“A compromise? After everything that I’ve done for you, provided for you, you disrespect me and you want me to compromise?”

Lucifer was leaning back in his chair with his legs sprawled when he interjected, “That’s a load of shit Mike, and you know it.” 

Michael turned his attention to Lucifer. “Do not use that language in this household.”

“Oh I’m sorry, did I offend your delicate sensibilities? Because cussing is worse than what you’ve done to your own brother.”

“Castiel and I had a disagreement. I am sure he exaggerated. You know how teenagers are.” 

“I know how you were, and I doubt he was exaggerating anything.”

Naomi sat down at Michael’s side opposite of Raphael, placing a tray of coffee mugs on the table. Lucifer smiled overly gracious at her and took one. Michael sighed tersely and fixed his gaze back one Castiel. 

“What is it you would like to compromise on?”

“I don’t want to go to St Augustine’s. I want to stay here.”

“I cant’ allow you to continue seeing that girl.”

“I want to stay here.”

“Tell me Castiel, are you thinking that you can sneak out and see her, perhaps skip school, as long as you’re here? "

Castiel refused to duck his head, he refused to look away and let Michael have any more satisfaction in the matter of being right, because that was exactly what Castiel had thought. That he could go back to sneaking out at night every now and then, talking to her on the phone. He didn’t even care if Michael belted him. As long as he knew what to expect he felt like he could deal with it. He just didn’t want to be halfway across the country among strangers. Without his family. Without Balthazar or Hannah. He didn’t have much, but that made what few close connections he had even more precious. He didn’t want to lose Dean or Sam, or Benny or Ruby even. 

“That’s it, isn’t it. Nothing is going to change if you insist on rebelling for that whore.”

“Don’t call her a whore!”

“That’s exactly what she is, she has corrupted you - “

“She’s not a whore!”

Castiel smacked his hand loudly on the table, half rising from it, glaring at his brother and Michael was tensed, for something, he didn’t know but his brother couldn’t hit him in front of everyone - could he.

Then Michael’s head snapped to the side and he shouted “Uriel!”

Castiel fell back into his chair, hearing the kitchen door squeak and Uriel poked his head in, looking abashed. 

“Go back to your room.”

The door clattered shut and Castiel could hear his brother’s footsteps pattering down the hallway now. 

Raphael looked bored. 

Lucifer pulled a small envelope out of his jacket, taking a handful of photographs out and dropping on the table so that they fanned out for everyone to see. It was Castiel’s face, and his arms, scattering across the kitchen table, livid bruises stark on his pale skin. 

Lucifer leaned over the table, smiling, and oh it was such a pleased smile. “If you want to make this ugly, brother, we can get ugly. We can take it public, call a few lawyers, we’ll make it a party.” 

Naomi narrowed her eyes at the pictures, flicking between Castiel and them, her lips pressed shut. 

Michael sat stiffer, one eyebrow arched up, regarding Lucifer. 

“There’s no proof to connect these to me.”

“Oh, but there’s Cas’ friends, they can corroborate, and don’t forget that everyone in this house probably heard you. You really do need to learn to control your temper, Mike, or at least your volume.” 

“You have no right Luc. You have no legal say in this family any more.”

“I’m not sure if that would matter in this case. He’s a minor. And let’s not forget this would involve dragging your pretty face through the mud, even if you come out clean, how many of your business partners do you think would jump ship before you can get it all washed off.” 

Michael glared at Lucifer, and everyone else at the table were absolutely silent as the two seemed to be communicating telepathically. 

“I want to see you in private after we’ve finished here. Castiel, what leverage do you even think you have here? You have nothing but this family. You have no where else to go.”

Castiel pushed his shoulders back, trying not to let his brother see that he was absolutely right. “I won’t let you control everything in my life. That’s why I said we could compromise. I’m not being unreasonable here.”

Raphael snorted, his lips twisted in disdain. “You’re being a demanding brat.”

“I just want to make some decisions for myself.”

Naomi tried what he supposed was meant to be an understanding smile. “Castiel, listen to your brothers, we only want what is best for you. At that age, you just don’t have the experience to know.”

“I don’t have the experience - I won’t get the experience if you don’t let me.”

Michael scoffed at him, “And what sort of experience do you think you’ll get associating with people like that? They’ll take advantage of you.”

“Then I will make mistakes, and I will learn from my mistakes. Just - let me stay here Michael.”

Michael sat with one hand on the table, finger tap tapping against it several times. “All right. But your part of the agreement will be to stay away from her.”

Castiel tensed, he knew Michael would be inflexible about this, and that more likely than not he would only get himself in trouble if he kept repeating patterns. Yet. “All right. But I want to get a job for myself this summer.”

“Excuse me, a job?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“But I want to.”

“We already have you signed up for Upward Bound, you’ve attended the past two summers.”

“I don’t want to go. I want to get a job this summer.”

If he could get a job for himself, he could save. Castiel knew that he would not be able to gain any independence for himself if he did not have the monetary means to support himself. It was months away, but when he turned eighteen, he wanted to at least have a modicum of savings. 

Michael shook his head once. “Schoolwork is more important than that.”

“I have excellent grades, I’ll get into a good college just fine on my own.” 

Lucifer sighed dramatically, “Really Michael, it’s a teenager asking for a job, only you could think that’s a bad thing. He’s being industrious.”

Michael stood, chair scraping over tile. “Fine. Those are the terms. You may find yourself a job this summer, and stay in St Sebastian’s. But you are not to see, or communicate with, Ms. Masters. Lucifer.”

Gesturing as he left, Michael ended the conversation and Lucifer followed him out of the kitchen. Castiel pulled the glossy pictures still scattered on the kitchen table up and covered them in his arms. Raphael was glaring at him but Naomi attempted a smile. 

“Welcome back Castiel.”

“I’m going to my room.”

Retrieving his back pack from the front door where he left it, Castiel padded quietly upstairs, hearing voices getting even louder from behind the door to Michael’s study, but he shut himself up in his bedroom and adamantly refused to strain his hearing to make out the words. Everything was neat, exactly how he had left it. Bland walls, bed made up neatly. As though nothing had changed here, and it looked so different now because he knew he had changed. 

Castiel was tired. He didn’t like the feel of walls closing in on him, impersonal and suffocating in their rigidity. Moving to the window to draw back the curtain and maybe watch the birds for a minute, Castiel froze with the curtain drawn halfway in his hand and stared. 

There were bars fixed to the outside of his window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that whole updating regularly thing hasn't turned out too well has it, sorry. I just feel like the last few chapters haven't gone over well, did I take a wrong turn somewhere?


	13. Exile

Castiel consoled himself with the fact that he had gained a victory - albeit a small victory, in that the best course of action he deemed suitable had been mostly granted by Michael. He wouldn’t be able to sneak around his brother to see Meg, like he used to, but he was glad to be staying put instead of shipped off halfway across the country. And if he was able to get a job that summer, he’d be out of the house more, he’d have an excuse to be away from his family. Which meant sneaking around Michael to see Meg, in broad daylight.

It was not ideal, but he was already calculating the potential losses and gains of this course of action and he felt that if he were patient, it would pay off. Letting the curtain fall back over his window rather than look out of what Michael had affixed there to keep him in place, Castiel set to unpacking the few things he had in his backpack. Setting his desk back up with his books and schoolwork, the routine of it calmed him.

He stacked his books in order of what assignments he wanted to complete first, made sure his folders were organized, reviewed his schedule for the next semester. It couldn’t have been more than a half hour when his bedroom door was flung open.

"Cassie, it’s good to see you back."

Balthazar closed the door behind him and came over to where Castiel was standing up. He leaned forward easily to accept a hug, his brother’s welcome something warm and solid and comforting.

"It’s good to see you as well Balthazar. Although it hasn’t even been a week that I’ve been gone."

"It certainly feels like more."

"It does."

Balthazar held his shoulders and looked at him, Castiel still under his scrutiny.

"You look all right."

"I’m feeling much better."

Balthazar’s smile wavered a little, and Castiel could tell how hard he was trying to keep up his cheerful front.

"You’re going to be all right, aren’t you? Here?"

"It’ll be fine, don’t worry about me."

Castiel ducked away from Balthazar’s hold, dismissing his concern because Castiel didn’t honestly have an answer but he was adamant to make the best of the situation. Sitting cross legged on his bed, while Balthazar slouched in his desk chair, Castiel had so many things he wanted to say, wanted to ask, of his brother and no idea where to begin. Then he heard the stern voices of Lucifer and Michael still in the study escalating. They started shouting and although the words were muffled and distorted it took Castiel back years, when it was more common to hear his family yelling through the walls of the house.

Balthazar frowned, and he talked quietly. “Well I’m sure you had a fun week, any juicy gossip to share?”

Castiel knew that his brother was just trying to distract him, and although he could appreciate it to an extent, he didn’t want to do this now, with their older brothers fighting down the hallway.

"Why don’t we talk about this later. You should probably go back to your room."

Balthazar sighed and nodded, wincing at the sound of something heavy slamming against a wall.

"You’re probably right."

Balthazar stood and made his way to the door, peering down the hallway for a minute before he stepped out and shut the door behind him.

Castiel felt more alone than he usually did in his bedroom. He supposed in the short time he’d spent with the Winchesters, he’d come to appreciate the easy presence of friendly faces. The only noisy disturbance in that house coming from other rooms had been sex. This house was cold, and it felt jagged. It left him straining and taut as he attempted to interpret the tone behind voices and the weight of silences. Castiel sat still on his bed and listened to his brothers fighting. He wondered if his little sisters were in the house or were over at friend’s houses.

There was the distinct sound of glass breaking and then doors slamming. Castiel supposed that Lucifer had left. He dreaded that Michael would come to his room. But silence settled over the house. A heavy leaden silence full of unknown things.

Castiel curled under his blanket and pulled his pillow over his head, making a little fort in his bed and hoping it would stifle the sound of any conversation. He could text Meg, but he desperately wanted to hear her voice. He knew he wouldn’t be able to see her again for a while, and he wanted to explain the situation to her.

"Hey, Cas."

"Hello Meg."

"Dean told me you didn’t come back today, so you home for good?"

"I believe so, I reached a tentative compromise with Michael."

"Compromise? You shouldn’t be giving that dickbag shit."

"I thought it best to be tactful with the situation, and not make it worse."

He heard rustling on the other end of the line, and a metallic squeak, and Castiel figured she was in her bedroom.

"Yeah, I guess. You’re gonna be safe there right?"

"It’ll be fine Meg. But, I don’t think I’ll be able to see you for a while."

"What do you mean?"

It was hot underneath layers of blankets, and Castiel was still whispering. Even Balthazar was the only room next to him and he doubted his voice would carry.

"Michael forbade be from seeing you, or talking to you. I expected as much, and I think I should listen to him this time."

Castiel didn’t tell her that Michael was making efforts to physically bar him from making escape attempts.

"I guess. I don’t really want you to get hurt because of me."

"It’ll only be for a few months, while we finish school. I did get him to concede permission to get a job this summer. If I can get a job, I’ll have more reason to be out of the house."

"Look at you, being Mr Responsible as a front to play hooky, I like it."

"Well it’s not all a front. I want to save up, so I’ll have a little for, for whatever, to move out, to be more independent."

"Smart move. So you still going to be at St Sebastian’s next year?"

"Yeah, at least to start. I was thinking, how reasonable do you think it might be, if I wanted to transfer to Firestone the second semester?"

"What, mid school year?"

"Yes. I know, it’s only a few months, but I turn eighteen towards the end of the first semester, so."

"So you think you want to move out or something, as soon as you can?"

"Maybe."

"If I’m going to college here next year, you could move in with me."

"And Ruby?"

"Probably. I don’t know, we’ll see what happens."

"You don’t think it would be a bad idea to transfer school for just the last semester?"

"That won’t really impact much, if you’ve got your ACT’s and SAT’s done at the start of the year you can send college applications out before the end of the first semester."

"That’s true."

"You’ll do fine Cas."

Castiel shifted on to his side, pressing the phone between his ear and the mattress. They were both silent for a minute, and Castiel wondered about what it would be like for Meg. If they tried to maintain their tenuous relationship when he couldn’t see her and contact would most likely be cut off or limited as well. He hadn’t been able to see her much at all since they first met, with the exception of the last week. It had mostly been hushed late night conversation and stolen nights when he should of been in bed at home.

"I’ll understand if you don’t want to, I mean, if, uh."

"Don’t want to what?"

"Keep doing this. With me. I won’t be able to see you for a while."

"I don’t mind waiting a few months, or waiting more than that. I don’t really know if I can agree with how you’re handling the situation, I’ll tell you that, I still think you should call child services. But I trust you. So, you do what you have to do, and I’ll still be around."

Castiel felt his nose tingling and he tried not to sniffle, he was anxious and he was tired and he was wrung out. It had been a long night, a long week, a long few months. Everything changed so fast and he felt turned around, lost with no map. He clung on to Meg but he didn’t want that to distort what he knew. He couldn’t help feeling vulnerable, though he tried to tamp it down, and he couldn’t help questioning.

"Why Meg?"

"Why what?"

"I don’t understand. Why you like me so much."

He heard her shifting, breathing, and waited.

"I meant it you know."

"Hm?"

"When I uh, god I can’t believe you’re getting me to say it again. But I did, mean it, when I said that I loved you Cas."

"But why?"

"I don’t know. You don’t look at me like I’m something other than human."

"What do you mean?"

He heard her sighing, and Castiel wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in his arms, to be wrapped up in hers, tangled together.

"Look, kids have always been kind of mean to me. Except for Ruby. Everyone knows my dad is a mortician and they think I’m weird. I tried to be normal, freshman year of high school, god please don’t even ask my dad to see photos from that year. It was awful, and it just made me feel worse. I know I’m a walking fucking stereotype, I do, but I just like who I am. I feel comfortable how I am. People stare though, they don’t really, they don’t look at me like I mean as much as other people, like I’m not worth as much. You’ve never really looked at me like that Cas. I just, ungh this sappy and it feels gross but I’m serious, you’re not like everyone else I’ve fooled around with that just wants to be with me for some piece or part that they like. You really, you look at me like I mean something. So, yeah, I do love you. You’re smart and fucking weird, and hot as hell. I’ll wait. Get your shit sorted out, I’ll be here."

Castiel curled tighter in on himself, knees pulled up to his chest and toes scrunching against the bedsheets. He wanted to hold her words in close to himself and keep them, keep them somewhere safe and secret to him so they could never be taken away.

“Meg I - “

“Look, I just, think that hearing that might be, I don’t know, something you need, but can we just not talk about that crap.”

“Meg.”

“So, do we still get to talk, like this?”

“Maybe, I’m not sure if Michael is going to take my phone again or not.”

“Okay. That’s fine. Just get in touch with me when you can, I’ll wait.”

“Meg, thank you, for everything.”

“Yeah. Same goes to you Cas.”

“I’ll , well I’ll see you when I can.”

“Stay safe.”

“I love you Meg.”

“Goodnight.”

Castiel listened to her breathing, erratic and shallow, still there on the other line. He waited, as she waited, neither hanging up. Uncertain of when he would get to talk to her next, Castiel listened to the rustling on the other end of the phone until there was a soft click and the dial tone. He stretched out along the length of the bed and pushed the covers down so he could breathe again, keeping the phone in his hand tucked up to his chest as he fell asleep.

Saturday morning saw Castiel eating cereal with Hannah and Hael at the kitchen table. They didn’t talk much, but Hannah smiled at him and eventually Hael did as well. Castiel loved his sisters. He loved to watch them grow in staggering jumps as they steadily progressed from girls to young women, already so serious and strong willed although they weren’t even in high school. For the first time, Castiel thought that was a pity, that they grew so fast, that they took after everyone else in this house with their solemn demeanors. It seemed everyone left - except Balthazar - were too serious in going about their lives in a responsible, orderly way. Castiel wanted to hear his sister’s laugh more.

They ate quietly together for the most part, all parties involved avoiding any sort of discussion regarding Castiel’s whereabouts in the past week. He didn’t want to implicate them in any manner, or upset them. He felt, acutely, and more than he ever had, that he didn’t belong here. In his family’s home, or with his family. It was as though he had gotten out of this box that his family was, and he couldn’t fit back in to it quite right; it was as though he never even realized the contortions he had to do in order to fit before.

Attempting to slip back into his normal routine, Castiel did his morning work out, he completed his chores, he dived back in to studying for when school would start after the break. Later in the afternoon, Michael approached him. His brother asked for his cell phone and Castiel gave it. He was given back a completely different phone, with a different number, that had all of his brother and sister’s phone numbers programmed in to it and none other.

Castiel understood. He was being isolated, as if his brother thought that Castiel could so easily be brought back under control if he were cut off from any ties outside of their family. He comprehended the situation easily enough, although he didn’t linger too long on the implications of what that meant about his brother. He knew that his family could at times be somewhat dysfunctional, abusive perhaps, but it was mostly an insidious, subtle sort of maneuvering. He was used to making excuses, to understanding, to blanking it out.

Determined not to fabricate reasons why he had deserved this treatment, why his family were good and loyal, it was difficult to begin to process. He wasn’t certain what was fact, what was embellishment, what he had either glossed over in his memory or had exaggerated. All families fought, it was right for a parent to make demands of their children, but, to what extent.

Sunday, Castiel went to church with his family. The sermon seemed rote and lacking to him. It didn’t speak to him, it didn’t comfort him, it didn’t lend any enlightenment or satisfaction. Castiel was more interested in reading the Bible quietly in his pew, thinking about Sam and Father Doyle. Deciding that prayer, reflection and study would grant him more answers, Castiel let his mind drift.

Monday came and went, and Tuesday, and Wednesday. Before he realized, the winter break had passed him by and it was time to return to school. His classmates appeared the same after break as they did before the break, as though nothing of any great import had passed. As he overhead conversation the topic of most import seemed to be comparing the material possessions acquired from Christmas. Or who made out with who at a ski lodge. Or the exotic warm locations that had been visited.

Castiel wondered if he was, by all appearances, the same person now than a few weeks ago. If it showed on his face, in his body language. He didn’t have close friends here, though, that would care to look. Castiel did go back to chess club, and the debate team, but he didn’t even bother to ask for anyone’s phone numbers with his new phone wiped blank. They had all exchanged numbers at the start of club, but he never called any of them and they never called him.

At first the sameness of his old routine was comforting. School, chores, homework. Church on Sunday’s. Chess club on Monday’s and debate team on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s. It was easy to slip back in to, instinctual like a muscle memory. But Castiel found that as he tried to mold back in to his routine, he simply couldn’t fit everything back into the box.

He missed the vibrancy that Meg had given his world. Castiel wasn’t certain if he’d be able to get in touch with her again for another few months, maybe not even until he found a summer job and got out of the house and away from Michael’s over bearing supervision. Castiel found himself on the verge of saying or doing things that didn’t fit in to the routine he was accustomed to. Although he had what might be called friends at school, in the sense that he was friendly with them, but he never ‘hung out’ with kids like the group of friends Meg had, the group that had welcomed Castiel. He missed Sam and Ruby, Dean and Benny too.

Castiel found himself gravitating more towards his brother Balthazar, who was always riding a very thin line between his personal and private indiscretions and the good son he presented himself to be around Michael. Balthazar was increasingly hectic with the last few months of his senior year and planning for college though, so Castiel more frequently found himself spending more time with Hannah and Hael. Rachel and Hester usually watched over the younger girls, making sure they ate healthy and did their homework. There was a very clear gender divide in the family regarding expectations and roles to be filled, which Castiel either hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared about before.

It startled him, how differently things could look when you tilted your perspective just a little bit in another direction.

Hael seemed happy in her pink bedroom playing with dolls and Castiel found he enjoyed spending time playing with her. But the more he listened to and spent time with Hannah, she seemed discontent with her lot. On the one hand, Castiel wanted to encourage her to explore life on her own terms. On the other hand, he didn’t want to foster any sort of rebellion that might get her in trouble with Michael.

Eventually, the tedium that he used to accept as quiet and peaceful, wore him down to irritation as the weeks passed. In his own small - insignificant - but safe and private act of personal rebellion, Castiel pilfered a stick of eye liner from his sisters’ bathroom again. He kept it this time, though, and practiced when he was bored at night. It was a very petty means of attempting to claim some autonomy for himself over his own body, his own life, but he found he quite enjoyed it.

The results were less than desirable, for the first few times he tried to figure out how to line his eyes like Meg did. He started to develop a steadier hand, though, and poke himself in the eyes less and less. Castiel always toyed with this late at night when he could sneak into a bathroom unnoticed and wash it off, and give his eyes all night to recover from being red and irritated.

Following in their father’s footsteps, Michael spent more and more time at work, which meant spending more time away from the house on the weekends for business trips. There was a sort of shift, were Michael had replaced their father, Raphael began to replace Michael. Castiel hadn’t thought they could be so interchangeable yet they managed. Michael grew increasingly distant - though still highly disapproving and astoundingly controlling - whereas Raphael managed the house and the family.

Of course, it wasn’t as though Raphael spent time caring for his siblings or working around the house. Rather, he was the figurehead of authority in Michael’s absence, the one deferred to for decisions. Naomi still cooked family meals, organized the chore charts, managed the practical details and day to day necessities. It was again, Castiel noticed, an unfair distribution.

He wasn’t going to complain about Michael’s physical distance though.

Castiel kept the small black eyeliner pencil where he stashed his other contraband. He had a slowly increasing pile of items, some were obviously things he shouldn’t have like the pink jelly dildo that Gabriel had intended to serve as a prank but Castiel kept, then there were items one might think were innocuous but did not belong in a teenage boys bedroom, like the stick of eyeliner and the little plastic snap container of olive oil Castiel had stashed away from the kitchen.

There were also sentimental items he’d tucked in his pockets and hid away like a magpie. A used clove cigarette butt - he liked the smell -a ticket stub for ice skate rentals, a little hair clip that had a plastic skull on the end that had fallen out of Meg’s hair once. Castiel should of given it back after he picked it up off the ground, but he kept it instead. For all outwards appearances they were insignificant rubbish, but they were little things Castiel could keep for himself that held meaning to him.

Castiel had very carefully hidden his box of contraband. Simply sliding it underneath the bed would be too obvious. Rather, he slit a small opening in the thin black material on the underside of the box spring and pushed the box up into the hollow space. It gave him a thrill of illicit pleasure to stubbornly carve out some sense of individuality for himself. Even if he had to hide it, for now, he fostered the weak spark of rebellious will. He told himself it would sustain him until he had the means to defy his brother again - and permanently.

Unable to comprehend why his actions with Meg were such a grave offense to his brother, the lack of any rational explanation drove Castiel’s need to understand. Although at the core of it, what Castiel valued most with Meg was non-physical - her companionship, her understanding, her insatiable curiosity - it seemed that what his brother fixated the most on decrying was any sort of physical connection.

Pre-marital sex was a sin in the eyes the church, and there had been a time that any word his pastor spoke was Gospel to Castiel. Now, the contradictions and the intolerances of the most pious made him question. There were those who were moral, upright, good people that believed in their heart of the absolute love and truth of God, without adhering strictly to the rule book of the church. Castiel was growing more assured in his belief that the latter were correct over the former.

It seemed taken for granted that any young man would seek sexual gratification by his own hand, and that this was normal. Some decried the dangers of any sort of carnal pleasure, but by and large there didn’t seem to be much judgment passed for masturbation. But as far as Castiel could tell from listening to his peers in the hallways of school, or what little current media he consumed, it was normal for a boy to touch his penis but any other means of sexual gratification was deviant, strange. The vitriolic rhetoric, the disgust, used so casually against homosexual males disturbed Castiel.

He wasn’t certain exactly where he fell on the spectrum of sexuality, but Castiel had found it rather exciting when Meg penetrated him with her fingers. He wanted more, he fantasized about it, weighed the judgment and sin that scorned it against his own physical reaction and mental arousal. The more he found a desire in himself for it, and a backlash against it from others, it only exacerbated his stubborn curiosity.

Why the act of penetration was taken as a feminine thing and therefore degrading, he had no idea. When it was late at night and quiet in the house, Castiel would pull his little box of contraband out from the hollow space of the box spring mattress and he would retrieve the little stash of oil there. Laying on his back with his legs bent up so his heels pressed against the back of his thighs, Castiel enjoyed the new found freedom of having some small measure of confidence to explore his body. There was still a prickle of guilt, of doubt, in his mind that he wasn’t certain he could ever eradicate, that whispered of sin and disobedience and punishment; Castiel found this sense of wrongness to be strangely incendiary. It excited him to defy even himself.

Tracing the flat expanse of his chest with his spread hands, fingers brushing against his nipples, scraping blunt nails down the ladder of his ribs and kneading his hands into the soft yield of his belly, Castiel touched himself in the quiet dark. Rubbing the heel of his palm against the jut of his hip bone, erection twitching against his stomach as he kept his breath steady and calm, Castiel spread his legs wider and slid a hand down behind his scrotum to tease his fingers against the sensitive skin there.

He was nervous at first, cautious, that even in the dark of his room this house had walls and his brother would know. That it would be the last straw, to find out how truly perverted Castiel was, and that he would be cast out from their home as Lucifer spoke of. He would slowly, cautiously, biting his lip between his teeth to keep quiet, breach himself with a single finger and clench around it, masturbating with his other hand.

The stimulation of it fascinated him. He pressed harder, pushed himself for more, exploring the inner of his body with three fingers as he shook apart with alarmingly heightened orgasms. He couldn’t find that place inside of himself that Meg had, though, his prostate, no matter how he crooked his fingers or angled his body. Although he was slender and flexible, could bring his knees up to the side of his head curling his body for a better angle, it was awkward and difficult.

Castiel tried pressing a hand between his legs while he knelt on the bed resting his shoulders and cheek against it. He tried reaching around his back, he tried standing and hitching a foot up on his desk. It made him feel absolutely depraved, that he had developed an appetite for this sort of activity. When his fingers weren’t enough, but he was accustomed to the limits of his body and his comfort, Castiel silently thanked his brother Gabriel for being a pervert and wondered just how strange it would be to masturbate with a dildo that he had gotten from his brother.

In any case, it was available and he was eager. Castiel didn’t dare try to masturbate with the toy until the house was mostly empty on a Friday night. Kneeling on the floor with his face pressed into a pillow on the bed so he could smother his little gasps, Castiel situated himself so the wide base of the toy was pressed to the floor and he could sink onto it.

The thick stretch of it pressing deep could not even compare to the feeling of a few fingers. The tug on his muscles as he rocked back and forth a little was unfamiliar, vaguely uncomfortable, and intensely stimulating. He could feel that taut coil, that heat and pressure at the base of his spine that rippled through his body, which he had experienced with Meg. Castiel had barely wrapped his hand around his cock when he was coming against the side of his bed, biting in to his pillow.

Well, he would be doing laundry early the next morning again.

Despite the stifling sense of impending conflict and the tension that he kept stored in his muscles, Castiel unabashedly took the pleasure he wanted for himself and harbored his own swelling defiance although he kept it sealed tight, waiting for the right moment.

Though he accepted that he wouldn’t completely be able to claim his independence until he was eighteen, Castiel looked forward to having a job during the summer to grant him some measure of freedom. It was only a few months of the second half of the school year that stretched in front of him to summer, but it still felt like some kind of exile. From the warm comfort of being with his friends, from the heady intoxication of being with Meg, from the person that he was when he could express himself without censor.

He could wait. Patiently and quietly, he could serve the term of his exile so long as there was the promise of open skies on the horizon.


	14. A Job Offer

Castiel tried to resume his life as normal before Meg, in order to keep up appearances with Michael that he was behaving. Of course, his secret plotting - although the planned course of action was ‘long term’ and would not come to fruition for months - still made Castiel paranoid. He was constantly thinking of the ways he could sneak around inconspicuously during the summer, as well as day dreaming about what it might be like to live with Meg outside this house, outside this family.

As it was, Castiel felt as though he were projecting his secret plans, and avoided his family more than he should have. Given that, trying so hard to act like he wasn't plotting anything deviant, made him appear more suspicious. It was a difficult balance to strike. Or, it was quite possible no one in his family noticed, much less suspected, anything and he was over analyzing the situation. 

With the new phone that Michael had forced on him, Castiel didn't have Meg's phone number programmed. However, he did have it memorized. He soon discovered that the number had been blocked by Michael, though. Castiel couldn't call her anymore. He always preferred to see her, but talking to her on the phone was how he had really gotten to know her, to listen to her, to explain himself to her. Strangely enough, it had a sort of association for Castiel, curled under blankets late nights whispering back and forth when he felt more excited about the thrill of defying Michael than tired and afraid. He would miss talking to her regularly.

Despite the fact that he had already told Meg he most likely would not be able to continue their clandestine phone calls, Castiel wanted her to know what the situation was. In this, he of course enlisted the help of Balthazar. Though he wouldn't want his brother to get in any sort of trouble for helping him, Balthazar was much more skilled at sneaking around behind Michael's back. And he seemed to glean a certain sort spiteful joy from doing so. Castiel was glad to have someone on his side. 

Castiel didn't understand how or why, but although Balthazar committed far worse infractions than Castiel ever had, he never registered on Michael's radar. Perhaps, it was simply that although Castiel logically wanted to believe that he was not being unreasonable, he still saw Michael in the light that he saw their father and felt guilt for his disobedience. It wasn't as though he could merely tell himself that he was justified in his actions and actually believe it. 

Maybe Balthazar was a lost cause to Michael. And Castiel, he still minded what his brother thought even if he didn't want to. Perhaps Michael felt he still had influence over Castiel, because Castiel still cared. He would not be entirely incorrect in that assumption. It was something Castiel could work on changing - caring less about what his Michael thought of him. 

Balthazar didn't tell Castiel exactly what or how he was planning on getting in touch with Meg, and Castiel didn't ask. He trusted his brother. He was not, however, expecting for his phone to ring late on a Friday night when he was staying up to get a head start on an essay. The phone number was not familiar, and Castiel was wary to answer. He didn't know if he was supposed to take a call from a stranger when it was already past midnight, surely no one with any good intentions would be calling then.

He still answered it. Castiel was nothing if not curious - too much so for his own good.

"Hello?"

"Man, it's been a while since I heard your voice. Not sure what the equivalent of 'you're a sight for sore eyes' would be."

"Meg?"

Castiel lowered his voice. He padded over to the doorway and peered outside to see if anyone was in the hall. The house was quiet. Shutting the door, he crawled into bed with the phone cradled to his ear as he listened to the voice he'd missed so much the past few months.

"Yeah, who else would it be Cas? Your brother called me, let me know what was up. He gave me your new phone number, but I couldn't get through. But I got some really good news I wanted to share with you, so, I just got a cheap pre-paid phone."

"You bought another phone just to talk to me?"

"Hey, it wasn't much."

Castiel burrowed under his blankets like he used, pulling his thick comforter up over his head and pushing his head under his pillow.

"Meg, I missed talking to you."

"Yeah, yeah, don't go getting all sentimental on me."

"What's your good news?"

"I got in to UC!"

He could hear her excitement, voice higher pitched and rushed, could practically see the rare smile that lifted her whole face up. It made him smile too. 

"Congratulations, that's wonderful news."

"That's not even the best of it. I mean, I kind of expected to get in, but I got scholarships for half the tuition Cas!"

“Meg, that’s fantastic, I knew you would do well.”

“Dad’s going to pay for a quarter of it and I’ll take out loans for the rest, but it won’t be too bad. The tuition is pretty reasonable.”

Castiel listened to her rambling off numbers about tuition, parking passes, books. He’d never paid very close attention to the numbers before, the actual cost of college. He had always assumed his family would pay for it, or that he would get scholarships. But if he did manage to move out mid school year, he doubted that Michael would want to be of any help. No, he should start planning already for how he could take care of it for himself. 

“Are you still planning on getting an apartment with Ruby this summer?”

“Yeah, definitely, she decided not to go to college so she’ll be working full time. I’m going to get as much work as I can this summer, but I’ll have to go back to part time in the fall. So we’ll see what we can find for cheap. How are things with your family, you still thinking of moving out when you turn eighteen?”

“Well, not right away when I turn eighteen, I’d rather finish the first half of the school year up to the winter break, I think that would be best.”

“Sounds like a good idea. I mean, if you’re safe.”

Castiel curled up a little tighter on himself under the sheets, too hot. “Yes. It’s been … tense, but it’s fine. Michael actually hasn’t been home too much, he’s been busy at work, like dad used to be.”

“Some of your brothers are pretty cool, right?”

“I think, you would get along well with Balthazar. He puts up a good front for Michael, but he can be a bit of a deviant.” 

“Oh I like him, you know he called me?”

“Did he?”

“Yeah when he gave me your new info, he called me, he said on a friend’s phone, and he was pretending it was like a super secret spy mission with code names and everything.”

Castiel smiled listening to Meg laughing on the other end of the line. He could see her smile from memory, cheeks round, eyes lined in black, hair messy around her face. Her laugh was usually sharp and short, she always seemed surprised when she laughed. 

“Did he give you a code name?”

“Yeah, apparently my code name is Raven, and you’re Bluebird, and Balthazar is Eagle One.”

“Ah. It’s suiting.”

“Yeah. Do you think you’ll still get to see him, or your other brothers if you run away?”

“Is it running away?”

“Maybe, but that’s not really a bad thing. If it’s the best thing for you.”

“I hope I will still be able to see my siblings. Balthazar will probably be at college, I’m not sure where, but, I’ll miss Hannah and Hael too. And Rachel and Hester. Maybe we can go to church, at St. Sebastian’s, and see them.”

“We?”

“Would you go to church with me?”

“I guess. If you really want me to. I’m not stirring up any drama though.”

“No, no I don’t want that.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Yes. It’s good to hear your voice again Meg, tell me about UC, I’m going to look in to applying there too. How are your father and brother? How has Ruby been? And Dean, and Sam, and Benny?”

Meg hummed in consideration, lining up all the idle chatter and gossip she could for the too many questions Castiel asked. He had felt so disconnected from the world he had gotten to know, from the warmth and ease of the little group of friends Meg had that just stitched him in right next to them. It was nothing like his own family, or his peers at school. 

He wouldn’t see them again for some time, but Castiel could live vicariously through the stories that Meg told. She spent most of her free time with Ruby, which meant spending a lot of time with Sam. Who, according to Meg, was far too nice and she was appalled that Ruby had not been doing a better job corrupting him. When she spoke of spending time at the house with Dean and Benny, she made an exaggerated gagging noise about how sappy and disgustingly adorable a couple they were. Castiel could hear the soft fondness in her voice though, something like longing.

She complained about her brother’s teasing, and compared his current school work with what she was anticipating for that fall. She spoke of her father who had apparently taken her dwindling social life and interest in boys to be a positive thing. 

As the night wore on, Castiel simply basking in the distant connection through a telephone with her voice, their words came out light and breathless, voices tired. They spoke of dreaming and wanting with the surety of their inexperienced youth. 

Castiel felt reinvigorated after just talking to Meg for a few hours, as though it had reaffirmed his belief in the course of action that he'd laid out. In his isolation he doubted his own judgment. He talked to Balthazar, to a degree, but wouldn't divest the entirety of his plans to even his closest brother in scheming. Just a few hours on the phone with Meg, and Castiel was feeling more hopeful.

As winter melted away and spring approached, the house became busy with the increasing fervor of Naomi's impending wedding that summer. It was months away, but they'd already been planning since the engagement the summer prior. It seemed far too early to Castiel for anything like making center pieces, and yet he was drafted in to manual labor making them alongside Hannah and Hael.

They were simple pieces. Small glass jars that had to be filled halfway with round clear and pale blue glass pebbles with a tea light nestled in the middle, and thin white ribbons fixed around the top. Of course the ribbons had to be a precise length and tied in a precise manner. It was fairly easy work, but they had hundreds to complete that were being stored in boxes in the corner of the back lounge room. After several weekends of ceaseless toil, Castiel could understand why they were starting on making things for the wedding already.

Uriel attempted to sabotage their work, picking on Castiel more than Hannah or Hael. He would untie the ribbons, hide the bags of tea lights, anything really to make it harder. But Castiel was used to that sort of behavior from Uriel. Rachel and Hester were busy making invitations and setting appointments, while Naomi oversaw the matters.

Castiel had only met his sister’s fiancé several times, when he had come over for family dinners. It seemed to be more a marriage of practicality, but despite that he couldn't help thinking that Naomi was marrying to please the ghost of their father. He wanted to believe that Naomi would be happy. She never did give much away, as stoic and impervious as Michael and Raphael were, but even if Castiel couldn't see it he didn't doubt that she had the capacity for emotion as much as him.

Busy with studying for the end of semester at school, and swept up in the wedding preparations, Castiel wondered if he should begin his search for a job after school closed or not. He knew that it could take some time to find a job, and he wanted to start as soon as he possibly could that summer. He decided that he should start looking and filling out applications one month before the end of school.

Castiel's first place to research the job market was the internet. It was overwhelming, the sheer volume of search engines and websites for finding a job, the amount of listings, the qualifications and the jargon. He decided to ask the guidance counselor at school, whom he rarely saw. They actually had information regarding summer work that students might find employment at, and Castiel counted that as a successful few lunch breaks spent sifting through the flyers and applications that were available.

His first instinct was to hide the material from Michael, like he hid his other contraband. But, Castiel had his brother's word that he would be allowed to find employment on his own this summer if he could. And for whatever game it was that Michael and Lucifer were playing, using their siblings like bartering chips, Castiel felt more confident to openly have another brother backing him, even if Lucifer didn't live in the house.

It was perhaps because of a rebellious sense of spite that Castiel had been nursing, but he found himself brazenly flaunting his endeavors. He would eagerly talk to Hannah about his progress in tracking down references over breakfast, she seemed happy to share his excitement. And he would spread his applications out on the kitchen table some nights alongside his homework. He knew that he was being unnecessarily antagonistic about the matter; even Raphael had taken up scowling at him when Michael was absent.

They all knew where the lines were drawn and who was on which side.

Castiel was pleased with his defiant gesture, nervous but pleased. He had already sent out several job applications over the internet, and had only a few paper applications left to complete. His only references were a teacher, his pastor, and his school counselor. He had no prior work experience. The odds were not in favor for having many options, but Castiel would take anything.

Snatching time for himself between helping his sisters with homework, preparations for the wedding, studying for the end of the semester and of course missing sleep to stay up late and wait for a phone call from the cheap phones Meg cycled through - all of it kept him busy and tired but Castiel had a mission, and he was nothing if not determined. 

-

Castiel sat at the kitchen table, a high traffic area, with his folder of applications to look through after he'd finished his studying. Stacking his AP Biology books to the side, he plucked out an application for Target and flipped through. Partially, he used the kitchen as an excuse to provoke his brother. But he operated under the pretense of begging assistance and advise from his older siblings. Hester was genuinely pleased with his initiative to find his own employment, and actually sat down with him to review the wording on his applications and give him advice for interviews.

Castiel felt encouraged by the interest and support. Wednesday nights were always quiet in the house and there was half a chance that Michael would not even be home from work before dark. Spreading his applications out to finish them, Castiel checked the one that Hester had helped him with against the others, refining his answers and over analyzing the minutia of every question. He was so absorbed in making certain that his hand writing was immaculate that he hadn't noticed Michael bustling through the kitchen door with a huff.

"Castiel, I need to speak with you in my study."

Trying not to visible startle at the sudden command and Michael's looming presence next to him, Castiel set down his pen and looked up at his brother. Michael was still wearing his suit, dark hair neatly parted to the side and his jaw barely showing a five o'clock shadow.

Keeping his voice steady, Castiel replied from his seat, "I'd rather not." As a peace offering, he gestured to the half full coffee pot on the counter across the kitchen island. "I made coffee, if you'd like. Can't we talk here?"

Michael glared and folded his arms over his chest. "Why are you drinking coffee on a school night?"

"I've been busy with my applications." Castiel picked his pen back up, tapping it against the side of a white mug which was still mostly full with coffee that had cooled by now.

"I have noticed. It's what I'd like to discuss with you."

Castiel gestured to the chair across from him. It was frightening, and difficult, pretending that his brother had no sway over him, pretending he knew what he was doing. But Castiel was starting to learn that many adults were still pretending, and quite a few people never really figured things out. 

Michael sighed heavily and to Castiel's surprise, he retrieved a cup of coffee and sat across the wide wood table.

"You know, it's not too late to apply for the college preparatory classes this summer that we were expecting you to attend."

Michael always did that. Made it as though it were about the family's expectations, and not simply his own.

"I'd rather look for a job. Mr. Lanley, the school counselor, he's given me some advice and seemed pleased with my initiative."

Castiel would leave his sister Hester's help out of this.

Michael scoffed, "I'm surprised he would give you advice that's clearly not in your best interest. You don't need to work. You need to focus on your studies."

"I am focused on my studies, during school. I don't feel that summer school is necessary."

Sipping his coffee, Michael drummed his fingers against the side of the mug. "You are aware, Castiel, that if you take this course of action against my advice I will not be able to assist you with getting in to a good college, or staying there."

Fidgeting with his pen, Castiel squinted across the table at his brother. "What do you mean?"

"If you wish to make your own way in this world, then you will have to make your own way. You'd be on your own."

Castiel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. All he really wanted was to be own his own. Well, not necessarily from the whole family, but from Michael. "I understand."

"I don't think you do. I will not help you with your applications, I will not pay for them, I will not pay for your tests, you will not live here during college or breaks - I will not help you house yourself or feed yourself. You will be on your own. Truly. If you want to make some grand statement and rebel against me, I will hold you to it."

Castiel's jaw twitched when he clenched it. "That would make me happy, brother."

"Do you even know how well you have it? You wouldn't last a month on your own."

"I am not a child and I am not weak. I can figure it out for myself Michael, I don't need you."

"The world is a cruel and unforgiving place."

"Not so cruel and unforgiving as you, I suspect." Castiel picked his pen up again and gave his full attention to his applications, effectively dismissing Michael. It was an insouciant gesture, which he quite purposefully executed.

Michael slapped an open palm against the table, his voice rising. "Castiel! You'd throw your life away, for what? A slut? You’re too young to what love is, don’t throw your opportunities away for something so trivial.”

Castiel's head jerked back up, body jerking at the sudden noise. Was he really just a pawn to Michael? "It is my life to throw away, not yours! And don’t you dare call Meg a slut again.”

Standing swiftly, Michael pushed his chair back and it scraped loudly against the tile floor. He glared at Castiel for a minute, who glared back with his fists balled against his thighs under the table.

"You've made your decision. Don't come to me for help, I won't give it."

Michael strode from the room quietly, leaving his mug on the table for someone else to clean up. Castiel was left feeling shaken and thrumming inside, all nervous energy and a sense of indignation. It wasn't as though he had expected his brother's support. He didn't think Michael would give up without some form of harassment. Castiel didn't want his help. He didn't want to need his brother and he doubted that his pride would see him going to Michael for help if anything went wrong.

Yet he tried not to lull himself to naivety. Despite how fervently he wanted his plans to work - saving over the summer, biding his time at school, moving out when he was eighteen to be with Meg - he held no illusions that this was a very fragile and even dangerous bid for his freedom. But he was desperate and foolish enough to bid on it.

That didn't mean that his brother's harsh rebuke didn't still sting. He didn't expect Michael's help, and that was it's own sort of disappointment.

Taking both mugs of coffee to the sink, Castiel rinsed them out, washing Michael's and placing it in the strainer, filling his own again with fresh coffee. He sat down to finish his applications. It was what he wanted to do, but he had to admit that he had a fresh reinvigoration of purpose born simply of spite for his brother.

-

Only three places called to offer an interview. Castiel had followed his sister's advice and he called several additional places to inquire about setting up interviews for himself, but to no luck. He'd have to hope for the best, and probably start another batch of applications.

At least he managed to get an interview at the one place that he really wanted to work. The Walmart where Dean worked. Granted he most likely would not get to see Dean much as he worked third shift over night and Castiel would have to take a day shift position, but if their hours overlapped at all, Castiel thought it might be nice. Not to mention that knowing someone there already lent a certain amount of comfort and security. He'd already listened to Dean rambling about his jobs, the ins and outs, the company on a whole, his co-workers. One thing Dean had mentioned was that they had a very high turn over rate, and that as long as you passed the drug test you could probably get a job there.

It most likely wouldn't be a full time job, which meant there would be benefits but Castiel didn't need those. And it would be minimum wage, but he wasn't qualified for anything above minimum wage.

The Walmart was too far to walk the entire, but there was a bus stop a ten minute walk away from Castiel's house. Although that line didn't go the Walmart; it went to a switch point down town where he could pick up a line that did go directly there. The commute would be long, but on the bright side that only meant more time away from the house.

Castiel hoped that this was the job he landed. He had an interview at a grocery store and Burger King as well. There was one he'd have to make the weekend before school ended, and the other two were the weekend after. Overall, Castiel was pleased with what his efforts got him and optimistic. Around the flurry of finishing essays and projects, he studied the bus line routes online and watched interview tutorials.

Balthazar wished him good luck the Friday night before his first interview, seeing as he would not be up early enough on the Saturday. Hester was awake Saturday morning though, drinking coffee at the kitchen table when Castiel blustered through nervously. He had put his tie on backwards. She corrected it for him, and gave him a hug before wishing him luck as well on his way out the door. 

There were so many things to worry about. Missing the bus, getting off on the wrong stop, saying the wrong thing. Was his handshake too firm, or too weak. Was his breath bad, had he dripped coffee on his shirt without noticing, was his hair combed down neat enough. At least when he arrived a half an hour early at the Walmart before his interview, he had time to check his appearance obsessively in the bathroom mirror and practice a few memorized lines that were suggested as key points of note in the preparation materials he had reviewed. 

He was still sweating. Which only made him more nervous about pit stains. The interview was an absolutely dreadful experience, and Castiel stuttered more than once. The interviewer, though - Carl - seemed less than enthusiastic to run through questions he must of asked dozens of times before with another young teenager who had no experience and not much to say about himself. 

Castiel hid in his room the rest of the day wringing his hands. 

Yet Sunday morning after church there was a phone message for Castiel with information on where to take the drug test. The job was his. One more summer, one more year of high school. For the first time in a very long while, Castiel felt certain that he was doing something right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gods it's been almost a year since I updated this, hasn't it. Well. I'd just like to say thank you to anyone who expressed interest in this story's continuation, and I will continue to limp towards the finish line - erratically and inconsistently - but we'll get there eventually. I promise. <3


	15. Lunch Break

Castiel padded across the lawn soggy with spring rainfall and climbed up into the tree. It was warm enough to go barefoot - he liked feeling the mud and wet grass under his toes - but he still huddled in a gray pull over sweater. Balthazar was already waiting for him, sprawled on a ragged brown checkered blanket and reading. He sat up, dog-earing his place in the book and leaning back against the rough wood wall of the tree house, when Castiel poked his head up from the ladder.

The sun was slanting in through one of the windows, near blinding where Castiel was climbing through the hole in the floor. He scooted off to the side, sitting on the warm blanket next to Balthazar. There were a few birds trilling sporadically in the tree outside, and Castiel could even hear a few neighbors out getting a head start on their gardens.

"Cassie, I wanted to tell you first."

"Tell me what?"

"I made a decision."

Balthazar was smiling widely, holding to whatever secret he was holding on to until Castiel was suitably enthusiastic. Huffing, Castiel reached out to push at Balthazar's shoulder lightly.

"Yes, and?" He had noticed an inclination to be more outwardly affectionate with his brother, who had always been lively and had always stood out from the family for it. Castiel liked expressing himself too.

"Well, I've made a decision about school."

That certainly piqued his interested, and Castiel waved a hand at Balthazar to continue.

"I'm going to take the scholarships for NYU."

"NYU?"

"Yes! It'll be good to get out of this dreary old town."

"Balthazar, that's exciting, I know you're going to love it there."

"I know, I can't wait."

His brilliant grin dimmed just a little as he leaned closer to Castiel. "I'm going to miss you though, and the girls."

"Don't worry about us,” Castiel reassured him, “You'll still come back for the holidays. Won't you?"

"Of course I will. Michael wouldn't be able to keep me away."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Michael thinks you're a good son."

"And I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to keep up that charade."

"However long you need to. Or however long you want to."

Balthazar nodded and nudged his shoulder against Castiel's, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him in for a hug. "I'm going to try and leave this summer."

"Before school starts?"

"As soon as possible."

"But... how soon will that be."

"I don't know."

"I'm going to miss you."

"I know, I'm sorry Cassie. You've got a job lined up though, you'll be getting out of the house this summer, that'll be good for you. And just think, you only have one more year of high school left. Then you can run off into the sunset with your godless temptress, or whatever it is you two do."

“I… Actually, I haven't told you, but. Well I'm not too sure if my plans will work out, and I suppose that saying it out loud to other people seems to make it, more real. Like I'm more committed. But. I've been planning to leave St Sebastian's after the first half of the year."

Balthazar reared back, face shocked. "What, you can't drop out!"

"No, shh, not drop out, I was going to transfer to Firestone. But I'll be eighteen, I can move out, I can do anything. That's why I needed a job this summer, so I can save up to move out."

Balthazar's hand was resting on Castiel's shoulder and he spoke softly. "Cassie, do you really think that's best? It seems, a little sudden."

Castiel nodded, and despite his brother's uncertainty, it only seemed to make him more resolute to prove himself. "I can take care of myself Balthazar."

"I don't doubt you can. But don't go getting yourself in too much trouble. There's a certain amount of trouble making one should commit, especially with the excuse of youth, but, make sure you know what you're getting in to."

"I'll be careful.”

Balthazar smiled at him and Castiel couldn’t quite understand the meaning behind it, but he felt the warmth of Balthazar pulling him for a hug and it was reassuring. 

"You know you've changed a lot since father died,” Balthazar noted casually. 

"That wasn't really what's changed me."

"I think it did. A little. Michael's done quite a bang up job filling in, but I can tell our family is falling apart a little bit, maybe it would have happened anyway."

Castiel nodded, curling his knees up to his chest and watching the sky turn shades of orange and red as the sun started to dip below the horizon.

"You're probably right. But I'm glad for the change. I feel like everything has sort of shifted, and I don't quite see things from the same angle anymore. I don't want to do what's expected of me or what I feel like I should. I want to find my own way. Like you are."

Balthazar nodded, looking down in his lap for a fleeting moment of hesitancy. ”I’ll be honest. I'm a little scared, it's a big move. But I don't think we're meant to be what others want us to be. Everyone always wants something different. The one person you're stuck with your whole life is yourself. And I, for one, fully intend on enjoying myself."

"Enjoying yourself responsibly, I'm sure you meant."

"Of course Cassie, you know I am the paragon of responsibility and maturity."

Balthazar sat up straight, puffing his chest out and tilting his head up. Castiel laughed, uncurling his legs and leaning against his brother.

"Thank you Balthazar."

"I don't know what for but you're welcome."

"You know."

"I do."

Castiel found himself wrapped up in Balthazar's arms again, a loud wet kiss pressed to his cheek.

"All right, you work hard this summer and stay under Michael's radar. I wish you good luck with your lady love, always remember to wear a condom."

"Of course. I hope whatever it is you’re scheming pans out and you can get out of here early this summer. I'm sure you don't need any luck with the school year, you'll do great."

"Because I'm brilliant, yes, I know. Go on, you get back in the house first.”

-

Castiel wasn't quite certain what he was supposed to expect of the situation. The co-worker he’d been training with was nice enough, but for the most part apathetic and not entirely helpful of expected behavior. Castiel had never had a job before, or a girlfriend. Was he allowed to bring her back into the employee break room if she visited him during a shift? Maybe they'd go outside and eat in their cars like the smokers. He was excited to see her, wherever or whatever they'd actually be doing for lunch. Time permitting, of course. It had been almost a half a year since he'd actually seen her face, and they'd only talked over the phone a small handful of times - he could count them on one hand.

It was his very first shift, but they’d already made plans and Castiel was clocked out and waiting by customer service near the front door five minutes before Meg was supposed to show up. Castiel couldn't help that he was fidgeting a little. He wasn't usually a fidgeter. It seemed odd to be so nervous about something as innocuous as lunch. But Meg had something she wanted to talk to him about. Castiel wasn't well versed in socializing, or in relationships. Was 'we need to talk' supposed to be a bad thing?

He had an over active imagination sometimes. Meg strolled in, one minute early, with a bag of McDonald's. She mustn't have been at work that day because she wasn't wearing her uniform. Just a short purple skirt and combat boots, a tank top, silver bangles on her wrist chiming when she waved to Castiel. Her hair was darker, black with a blue sheen, and there was a silver ring through her lower lip.

It was ... different. He probably could have expected that she would have acquired more piercings than the few that lined her ears. He felt vaguely like he was supposed to find it unattractive, but the only thing he really cared to notice as she spotted him and walked over was how pretty her smile was.

Castiel was uncertain the level of affection he could show at his work place. For a very brief second the mental image of dragging her to one of the bathrooms and lifting her skirt squashed close together in a stall flicked through his mind. That seemed very unsanitary, however. Meg made up his mind for him, though, when she practically threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

He stooped a little to rest his chin over her shoulder as he circled his arms around her, breathing in the familiar smell of floral perfume and clove cigarettes. Her hair was darker but it was soft and gently waved like it always had been.

"Meg."

"Hey Cas."

She kissed the side of his neck and let him go, dropping back down to her heels. They just looked at each other for a minute.

"I like the hair, it suits you."

She punched him lightly on the arm. "Yeah and you look as dorky as ever in your Walmart vest. You hungry?"

"I'm not sure where we should eat, I don't know if you'd be allowed in the breakroom."

Meg grabbed his wrist and turned, pulling him through the crowded store. "I got an idea."

Her hand was warm against his skin, sliding from around his wrist to hold his hand, palms slotted together. If Michael had thought that separating the two of them would make Castiel interested in Meg any less - as if in her absence he would forget about her or 'come to his senses' - his brother was definitely incorrect.

Castiel had forgotten how much he enjoyed simply being in her presence. There was something giddy and breathless about it. They didn't talk as they weaved through the crowds, Meg tugging him along, until they were ducking outside through the lawn and garden entrance to the summer outdoor display area.

Meg pulled him into a corner that was mostly abandoned, dropping the bag of fast food she had brought on a cheap patio table and turning to wrap her arms around him again. There wasn't really anyone around, at least not any of his co-workers. Castiel tangled his fingers in her soft hair and brought her closer, pressing his lips to hers. The ring in the middle of her lip was hard, and when he slid his tongue past her lips he felt more metal in her mouth. Meg squeezed his waist, sliding her hands around to palm his ass. She smiled against him, kissing with open eyes.

"You like the piercings?"

"I'm not sure. It feels, strange."

Meg nipped at his lip and brushed her cheek against him, kissing his ear, "I hear it's great for oral."

"Oh."

Castiel might be embarrassed at how easy it was to get an erection around Meg, but she never did seem to mind. She stuck her tongue out at him, little silver ball sitting on the top, and turned to flop down on one of the patio chairs, legs sprawled un-ladylike. Castiel flicked aside a price tag and sat down opposite her, shrugging out of his blue vest. He snagged several napkins for the cheeseburger and fries that she passed over.

"Thank you for bringing lunch."

"Sure. We should do this more often."

"I would like that."

"I actually might be able to get a better job, that's more night work, and I'd have the afternoons free."

Castiel ate quietly, listening.

Meg shrugged and fidgeted, ”It's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. I didn't really want to just drop it on you over the phone."

"What do you mean?"

"So, you know my friend Abby is a stripper."

"Yes."

"Ruby started working at the club too. It's not really sure money, but on a good Friday or Saturday Abby can make upwards of a thousand dollars in one night,” Meg took a large bite of her burger, eating noisily. 

Castiel stopped chewing with one cheek stuffed full of fries. He did a quick mental calculation of how long it took him working third shift to make that much money.

"How much does she usually make, on average?”

"Good money on the weekends, not much during the week. It'd be a hell of a lot more than what I make at McDonald's though."

Castiel nodded.

"What do you think?"

"About you being a stripper?"

"Yeah."

"It's not really my decision."

Meg picked at her burger, slouching in her chair and watching him.

"I figured, I don't know, I should probably ask you."

Castiel considered this, he wasn't entirely certain if the picture that his conservative upbringing painted about 'exotic dancers' was accurate to real life or not. Perhaps he should care, but from a practical stand point if Meg was interested in the work and wanted to, Castiel was really only concerned with one thing.

"Is it safe?"

Meg blinked at him, chewing. "Huh?"

"Is it safe? I mean, what are the rates for assault, or, what other risks would there be?"

"Oh. The club's actually got pretty good security, according to Abby and Ruby. Plus, they'd be working there too, and we look out for each other, you know."

"Is that something you'd want to do?"

"I like dancing. You know I kinda like showing off."

"As long as you take care of yourself, I don't really mind. If it's dangerous, you don't need to. What about school?"

Meg blinked at him, swiping ketchup from the corner of her mouth, ”I can do part time during school. It'd be fine. I know I could probably make things work otherwise, but if I can save up a lot this summer that would make things a whole lot easier."

Castiel nodded, crinkling the wrapper of his eaten burger and shoving it in the empty fry box. ”That’s what I'm trying to do, but it'll take me about a month to make a thousand dollars."

"Yeah."

Meg balled up the wrapper from her food, nudging Castiel's foot under the table. "Hey, if I start raking in the cash, I could always be your sugar mama."

"Doesn't that mean I'd have to give you sexual favors?"

"You already do."

“That’s a fair point,” Castiel conceded. 

Meg grinned at him, “I’m sure I could think of something extra depraved if you feel like owing me.”

“I’m willing to try anything once,” Castiel tried to keep a straight face but it was hard not to smile around her. 

Scooting her chair closer, scraping over the concrete patio, Meg elbowed him and leaned in close to his ear, “So how much longer do you have on your lunch?”

Checking his watch, Castiel answered, “About thirty minutes, we have to take hour long lunches.”

Another screeching drag of the metal chair and a warm hand was settling on his thigh, warmth blooming in his cheeks to match, “I put some new decoration up in the back of the hearse, you should come tell me it’s pretty.”

“I’m sure it is.”

Glancing around nervously that anyone would see, even if it were just a peck on the cheek Castiel wouldn’t want anyone to see him behaving inappropriately at work. Of course, if no one could see them in Meg’s hearse, and it was just in the parking lot, that wouldn’t be too untoward. Brash, perhaps, but if no one saw them… 

With most of his blood in his face and lower, Castiel was certain his brain didn’t have enough and wasn’t thinking straight, but he really wanted to discover what Meg’s new piercings felt like in other areas. 

Gathering up their trash, Meg winked at him and twirled around fast enough her skirt flew up and for all that her brazen exhibitionism made him nervous, Castiel was endeared of it. Putting his vest back on, he set the patio exhibit back to the way it should be displayed. 

“Well come on then, slow poke.” 

Castiel followed her, nodding at a fellow coworker as they passed through the store again, throwing trash away at the front bins near the bathroom, weaving through the cars in the parking lot back to where Meg’s hearse was parked in an empty corner under a tree. Castiel almost snorted. Of course she had thought ahead. Crawling into the back with her, Meg knelt and shut the doors, pushing him onto his back as she pulled her tank top off immediately. Soft translucent lace cupped her breasts, shorter hair brushing against her chin and falling across her face. 

There may very well have been a complete remodel of the back, but Castiel wouldn’t have noticed. His attention was fully, consumingly, elsewhere than the decorative touches to Meg’s hearse. 

Shrugging out of his vest and unbuttoning his shirt, Castiel was already hard and ready. There was a slight worry that he was developing sexual associations with the back of a hearse, but he couldn’t deny that it was convenient. Meg pushed her plain black panties down and kicked them off as she straddled Castiel thighs, nimble fingers helping work at his shirt. 

“I missed this,” she spoke quietly, hunched over him and straining forward to kiss his neck and nibble on his ear, “I missed you.”

Stroking along her soft curves, Castiel wound his arms around her back and held her closer, “I missed you so much, Meg,”

Pressing her lips to his, shushing him with wet open mouthed kisses, Castiel felt sometimes that this were an inadequate expression of his affections but it seemed to at least convey something that Meg could appreciate. Trailing his fingers up her spine, she shivered as he worked at the clasp of her bra. He didn’t remember it being so difficult. Cock hard in his slacks as Meg worked a hand between them and undid his belt, Castiel ground up against her as he slid her bra off. 

Caressing along her back with one hand, the other gliding around to cup a breast, Castiel groaned when Meg sucked on his tongue and bit. The ball of her piercing clacked against his teeth, smooth and hard and it was foreign, strange, but not unpleasant. Castiel surged forward to grab her lower lip with his teeth, and Meg rolled her hips down against him as he toyed with the ring through her lip, tugging at it gently. He wasn’t certain if it were painful, but for how she moaned a breathy sigh, he could guess it was good. 

Sharp nails dragged down his chest, Meg shifted, pulling away and opening his shirt to kiss over his chest. Hard metal of her oral jewelry traced down and flicked over a nipple, Castiel arching into the contact as he buried his hands in her silky hair. 

“Oh, that is….”

Meg looked up at him, wicked smile curling her lips, “Good, right? It gets better.”

Sucking in a breath, Castiel shifted upward to lean against the hearse’s partition, legs spread wide as Meg knelt between them, belly to the floor of the hearse and her knees folded up. Tugging his pants down, Castiel lifted his hips as she pulled them to mid thigh and gave up. One soft hand grasping his cock around the base, Meg’s sweet brown eyes in her round darling face watched him as she flicked her tongue piercing against the glans of his cock. Whimpering, Castiel tugged a little at her hair and fisted his free hand in the sheets underneath them. 

Meg dragged the ring of her lip piercing over the head of his cock, up the slit, swirled her tongue around it to slick him with spit and let the metal glide over sensitive skin. Castiel had absolutely no qualms with the aesthetics of the piercings if this was how it felt. Meg laughed under her breath at his reaction before closing her lips around the head and bobbing down, metal a hard contrast to the soft yield of her plush mouth. Castiel rocked his hips up gently, entreating. Meg braced on one hand and kept the other around the base of his cock, squeezing and stroking in rhythm with her mouth. 

He would be fully content to let her continue as long as she wished, but sadly Castiel was on a time limit and he was not going to make a bad impression by going over his lunch time on his very first shift. Even if all he were doing was taking computer learning modules that were, in his opinion, courses on common sense.

Pulling her gently by the hair, cupping her neck as he dragged her off his cock, Castiel slid his body down to lie fully on his back again, “Come here,” splaying his palms over her narrow shoulders, down the sweep of her hips and squeezing her firm backside, Castiel dragged her along his body and she came with a sinuous roll of muscle, sliding up him. Encircling her with his arms, Castiel gently flipped them, shifting and knocking against the roof of the hearse, moving to kneel between her thighs, body curled over her.

“Condom?”

He wasn’t prepared for this. But of course, Meg was. Tongue flicking out at the corner of her lips, she strained over to her polished wood box of supplies that was the same as ever, pulling out a condom. Her short skirt was twisted up high around her waist, Castiel’s shirt warm over his back and his pants digging in to his thighs. Partially undressed, too eager to do more, Castiel rolled the condom on and lay against her, Meg’s hands warm over his shoulders, her thighs soft against his waist. 

Sliding in to her heat, bodies moving together, mouth hovering just above her close enough to feel her breath, Castiel could feel his tension and anxiety and doubt sluicing away. It weren’t as though sex were an answer to anything, or the most important component of his relationship with Meg, but the physical proximity and the reassurance of their affection for each other, it eased a tight knot in him that had been winding painfully with the physical distance that had come between them. 

Meg’s eyes were glassy, her hands holding on with firm grip to his shoulders as she ground her hips up against him. Kissing breathy, panting in to each other, Castiel curled one arm underneath her body to hold her closer still as he thrust deep and gently rocked in shallow motions. 

She whispered his name, over and over, like she didn’t even realize that she did in shushed stuttering ‘Cas, Cas’, and the molten arousal coiled in his gut couldn’t even compete with the burgeoning heat swelling behind his ribs. Castiel was shuddering and releasing into the tight clutch of her body too quickly, burying his face in her neck and gasping against the pulse beating there. 

Slender fingers dragged down his back, tugging his shirt up enough to fan over his lower back. Castiel pushed up, shifting his weight carefully off her, crawling over a leg to curl on his side next to Meg and pull the condom off. She took it from him, tucking it back in it’s wrapper and setting it aside, before she insinuated herself into his arms and folded her head on his chest. 

Sighing, feeling regret and longing creeping in because he knew he needed to leave soon, Castiel clutched at her and buried his nose in her hair, smelling sweet and fruity. 

“I have to go soon.”

“How soon?” She mumbled against him. 

Castiel checked his watch, “Five minutes.”

“Then stay five more minutes.”

“I have to be at the time clock by then.”

“Four more minutes, then.”

Kissing the crown of her head, Castiel eased his hold and pet over the warm skin of her back and hips, fingers dragging over the waist of her skirt and skittering over the shivering skin of her belly. “Thank you, Meg.”

“What? For lunch? You just want me for my cheeseburger discount.”

Huffing a laugh, Castiel pinched her waist. “Of course.”

Castiel couldn’t decipher her tone when Meg asked, “Is everything fine at home?”

Shifting back enough that Castiel could see her, cup her cheek, he smiled and it was absolutely genuine. “It’s not bad. It’s better. Michael’s been busy with work lately, and getting this job will be good.”

“Good.”

Craning forward, Castiel kissed her on the lips, lingering, before he rolled on his back to tuck his shirt back in and button up. 

“I should go.”

“Yeah.”

Meg ruffled a hand through his hair, “At least you always look you have sex hair.”

“What?”

Wiggling her skirt down and pulling her tank on without the bra, Meg pushed the doors open when Castiel was buttoned up, “Nothing. Here, just, I smudged a little make up on you,”

Castiel stood still in the parking lot outside the hearse while Meg tipped up on her toes and licked her thumb to swipe something off his face. 

“There.”

“Goodbye, Meg, I’ll call you again when I can.”

“Yeah, keep an eye out for me, I’ll swing around here sometimes.”

Pulling his blue employee vest back on, Castiel leaned in for one more kiss, and just one more, and one more, before he checked his watch and saw that five minutes had, in fact, already passed. Meg shut up her hearse and he walked away with a ‘goodbye’, but Castiel couldn’t keep the smile off his face for the rest of the day. Throughout work, walking to the bus stop, on the ride home, his neck was starting to hurt from straining it down to smell the faintly persisting scent of her perfume and cloves on the collar of his shirt. There was always something to remind him of Meg, until the next time he could see her again.


End file.
